Harry Potter: a Slytherin
by bonysteak
Summary: One gust of wind changes the whole course of Harry's life, where he ends up in Slytherin, befriends Theodore Nott and Draco Malfoy, and starts to lean towards Dark Magic.
1. Chapter 1 - Diagon Alley

NOTE BEFOREHAND!

Okay, it seems all of you are reading the first few chapters and stopping. Most likely because it is too similar to the original book. Sorry about that, but if you skip to Chapter 5, that's where things start to get different. Please hang on, the story will start to seriously change from Chapter 5. Oh, and PLEASE REVIEW!

Thanks! Hope you enjoy the story and don't die of boredom. D:

[The shack]

Harry woke early the next morning. Although he could tell it was daytime, he kept his eyes shut tight.

"It was a dream," he kept telling himself. "I dreamed that this giant called Hagrid banged down the door to our shack and told me I was a wizard. When I open my eyes, I'll be in my cupboard."

There was a loud tapping noise. And that's Aunt Petunia knocking on the door, Harry thought.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"Okay," Harry mumbled, "I'm getting up."

He pushed himself into a sitting position and Hagrid's coat fell off him. He looked around. He wasn't in his cupboard, and Aunt Petunia wasn't making that tapping noise.

Tap. Tap. Tap. An annoyed looking owl was rapping on the window of the shack. Harry strode over and jerked it open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper it was holding in its beak onto Hagrid. It waited for Hagrid to wake up, but he didn't. Promptly, the owl fluttered to the floor and began to peck furiously at his coat.

"Don't do that!" Harry said, trying to shoo the owl away. "Hagrid!" he said loudly. "There's an owl – "

"Pay him," Hagrid mumbled.

"Say what?"

"He wants payin' fer deliverin' the paper. Look in me lowest pocket, and give him five of the little bronze ones."

Harry did as he was told and shoved five coins into the leather pouch tied to the owl's leg. It took off back through the open window.

Hagrid finally got up and yawned loudly. "Come on, Harry, we gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer stuff fer school."

[Diagon Alley]

After badgering Hagrid with countless questions on the way through the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley, Harry just finished visiting his vault at Gringotts. The two were now on their way to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, to buy Harry's uniforms. "Listen, Harry," said Hagrid as they stopped right outside the shop, "would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate Gringotts carts." He still looked sick, so Harry entered Madam Malkin's shop alone.

Madam Malkin turned out to be a squat, smiling witch. "Hogwarts, dear?" she asked, when Harry opened his mouth to speak. "Got the lot here – another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yeah," replied Harry.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley.

"Have _you_ got your own broom?" the boy went on.

"No," said Harry.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"Er…What is that?"

The boy made a face. "Are you telling me you're a _Mudblood_?"

"What's that?"

"Yeah, you _are _a Mudblood. Well, Mudblood, Mudbloods are people who have _Muggles _for parents." He acted like "Mudblood" was a swear word or something.

"I was raised by Muggles," said Harry, "but I'm not sure about my parents. They're dead."

"Oh, sorry," said the boy, not sounding sorry at all. "Well, you know what House you'll be in?"

"No," said Harry, feeling more stupid by the minute.

"Nobody really knows until they get there, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, my whole family has been. Imagine being in Hufflepuff – I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

Before Harry could answer, a strong gust of wind blew in from the open door, causing Harry's messy hair to flutter, and the boy caught a glimpse of the scar on his forehead. His eyes widened in shock.

"You're – you're…_Harry Potter_!"

Harry couldn't help but stand up a little bit straighter. "So what if I am?"

"Oh my…I had no idea! I'm so sorry for accusing you of being a Mudblood! I just never…sorry!" the boy cried, sounding sincere this time.

His attitude towards Harry had changed completely. Now that the boy knew who Harry was, he was actually friendly.

"It's okay," Harry said, stifling a laugh. "But you never told me what _your _name was."

"Oh yeah," said the boy. "Draco Malfoy – pleased to meet you." He stuck out his hand, and Harry reached over and shook.

"That's you done, my dear," said Madam Malkin, and Harry stepped off from the stool.

"Bye, Harry," called Draco. "See you at Hogwarts."

"Oh, I'm not leaving," said Harry. "I'll wait for you."

Madam Malkin finished with Draco's robes in no time, and by the time Draco had scrambled out of the shop, Hagrid was back.

"Harry! I got yeh an ice cream – who's that boy with you?"

"Draco Malfoy," Harry replied. "I met him in Madam Malkin's."

Hagrid was holding two ice creams. "Ah, I was gonna eat one meself, but I'm stuffed up anyways! Here, Harry, yer friend can have it."

Harry took an ice cream (chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts) and gave the other to Draco. They were nearly finished when Draco said, "Look! Mother and Father are here!"

Two blond haired people were walking up the street. The man was clutching a sack of books. "Father! Mother! Look who I met in the shop!"

Mr. Malfoy's gaze traveled over Harry and stopped at his scar. He stared at Harry curiously. "Come on, Draco," he said, turning to his son. "What have we got left?"

"We have to go buy my parchment and quills, and stop by the Apothercary too," Draco said, consulting his list.

"And your wand," Mrs. Malfoy added. "You have to be there to get your wand, because the _wand chooses the wizard_."

"Me too!" Harry said excitedly, checking his letter.

"Excellent!" Draco said. "Father, can we go together?"

"All right," Mr. Malfoy agreed.

The whole way there, Draco was talking excitedly to Harry. He told him everything about Quidditch, Hogwarts, Mudbloods and purebloods.

" – and Slytherin is the best of the four," Draco was saying as they walked into the Apothercary. "Gryffindor is for riffraff, and Hufflepuff is just bunch of losers."

"I bet I'll be in Hufflepuff," Harry said gloomily.

"No, you won't," said Draco airily. "Ravenclaw's not that bad though, but Slytherin is top, no competition. Wow, look at these!"

He was pointing to a barrel full of sharp, curved claws. They had fun looking at all the potion ingredients, from jars of herbs to dried roots to bright cans of powders. There were also fangs, horns, and even a tub of beetle eyes.

"Just yer wand left, Harry," Hagrid said as they left. "Oh, and your birthday present."

Harry felt himself go red. "You don't have to…"

"Tell yeh what, I'll get yer owl. They're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'."

Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy took Draco and Harry to Ollivanders while Hagrid went to Eeylops Owl Emporium to get Harry his owl.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. It was a tiny place, cramped with shelves full of long, thin boxes.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry and Draco both jumped.

An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom.

"Hello," said Harry, rather awkwardly.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, I thought I'd be seeing you soon, Harry Potter. And you too, Draco Malfoy."

He pulled out two tape measures and they began to measure Harry and Draco all on their own. He went to scan the shelves, while saying,

"You see, young boys, every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

"Draco Malfoy first," Mr. Ollivander said, and the tape measures dropped onto the floor. "Try this one. Birch and dragon heartstring, twelve and a half inches, reasonably springy."

Draco confidently waved the wand, but nothing happened. Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand immediately. He strode back over to the shelves, pulled out another box, and said, "Here, hawthorn and unicorn hair. Ten inches precisely. Reasonably pliant."

Draco waved the wand once more, and this time, red and gold sparks shot out of its end like fireworks. His parents were smiling. "Excellent, excellent, and a very fine wand that is," said Mr. Ollivander, and as they paid six Galleons for the wand, Mr. Ollivander beckoned Harry closer.

They followed the same routine as Draco had done, but Harry had to try many more wands. It felt like he had tried the whole shop when Ollivander said, "Tricky customer, eh? I wonder, now – why not, unusual combination – holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down, sending out enormous red and gold sparks through the packed, dusty space. Hagrid and Draco both whooped and clapped, and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh bravo! Well, well, well, how very curious…"

"Sorry," Harry said, "but _what's _curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather – just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother – why, its brother gave you that scar."

Harry swallowed.

"Come on, Harry," Hagrid said. Harry paid seven Galleons for his wand, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop, still muttering, "Curious, curious…."

They were back in the Leaky Caludron in no time, and they were alone. "Bye Harry," said Draco. "See you on the Hogwarts Express." Mr. Malfoy gave him a curt nod, and Mrs. Malfoy smiled. Hagrid led Harry out of the Leaky Cauldron and into London, the Muggle London.

As he rode the train that would take him back to the Dursleys, munching on a hamburger, Harry felt that this was the best birthday of his life.


	2. Chapter 2 - The Hogwarts Express Ride

[King's Cross Station]

Harry had finally gotten through the last month of summer, and Uncle Vernon was now dumping Harry's trunk and owl cage containing Hedwig onto a cart and wheeling it into the station. He thought that this was strangely kind when Uncle Vernon stopped dead, facing the platforms with a nasty grin on his face.

"There you are, boy. Platform nine – and platform ten. Platform 9 ¾ should be somewhere in the middle, but it doesn't seem to have been built yet, does it?"

He was right, of course. There was a big 9 over one platform and a 10 over the one next to it, and nothing in between. "Have a good term," said Uncle Vernon with an even nastier smile. He left without another word, laughing in the car with Dudley and Aunt Petunia.

Harry's mouth went dry. What was he going to do? He wished he had Draco by his side right now, he'd know what to do. He stopped at a passing guard, and tried to ask him where the train for Hogwarts was without trying to mention Platform 9 ¾. The guard only thought Harry was being stupid on purpose.

Harry was trying hard not to panic. The clock showed ten minutes until eleven, and he was stranded in the middle of a station with a trunk he could hardly lift, a pocket full of wizard money, and a large snowy white owl.

At that moment a group of people passed just behind him and he caught a few words of what they were saying.

" – packed with Muggles, of course – "

Harry's heart gave a great leap. The speaker was a plump woman talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair and freckles. Each of them was pushing a trunk like Harry's in front of them – and they had an owl as well.

"Excuse me?" he asked the lady. All four boys turned to look at him.

"Hello, dear," she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too."

She pointed at the youngest of her sons, who was tall, thin, and had a long nose.

"Yes," said Harry. "The thing is – I – er, - don't really know how to – "

"Get on the platform?" she said kindly, and Harry nodded.

"Not to worry," she said. "All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on."

"Er…Okay, thanks," said Harry.

He broke into a run, wondering madly if he had gone nuts. He was going to smash right into the barrier. He closed his eyes, waiting for the crash – and waiting – and waiting.

He opened his eyes. A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead read, "Hogwarts Express, eleven o'clock." Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words "Platform 9 ¾" on it. He had done it.

Harry pressed on through the crowd, trying to get a glimpse of Draco while trying to find an empty compartment near the end of the train. He put Hedwig inside first and then started to shove and heave his trunk toward the train door. He tried to lift it up the steps, but he could hardly raise one end, and twice he dropped it painfully on his foot.

"Want a hand?" It was one of the red-haired twins he'd met at the barrier.

"Yes please," Harry panted.

"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!"

With the twins' help, Harry's trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

"Thanks," Harry said, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

"What's that?" said one of the twins suddenly, pointing at Harry's lightning scar.

"Blimey…are you - ?" said the other.

"He _is_," said the first twin. "Aren't you?" he added to Harry.

"What?" said Harry.

"_Harry Potter_," chorused the twins.

"Oh, him," Harry said. "I mean, yes, I am."

The two boys gawked at him, and Harry felt himself turning red. Then, to his relief, a voice came floating in through the train's open door.

"Fred? George? Are you there?"

"Coming, mom."

With a last look at Harry, the twins hopped off the train.

[Hogwarts Express]

Harry sat alone in his empty compartment, just sitting and thinking about nothing. Before long the train whistled and doors began slamming shut along the Hogwarts Express. Then it kicked off, gaining speed, until houses flashed past in a split second.

The door of the compartment slid open, and the youngest red-headed boy came in.

"Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. "Everywhere else is full."

Harry shook his head and the boy sat down. He glanced at Harry and then looked quickly out of the window, pretending he had never looked.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" he blurted out.

Harry nodded.

"Oh – well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," he said. "And have you really got – you know…"

Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar.

"Wow," said the boy in awe. He sat and stared at Harry for a few moments, then seemed to realize what he was doing and looked quickly out of the window again.

The compartment door slid open again. Three boys entered, and Harry recognized the middle one to be Draco Malfoy.

"Harry!" he said. "They're saying all down the train that you were in this compartment. Long time no see!"

"Hey Draco," Harry said.

The red-headed boy gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco looked at him.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. Red hair, freckles, hand-me-down robes – you must be a Weasley."

"So what if I am?" the boy said, looking disgruntled.

Draco turned to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Harry. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. Let me help you there."

He took Harry by the wrist, who hastily grabbed his trunk, and marched him out of the compartment. Harry shot the Weasley boy an apologetic look before leaving. He caught a glimpse of him shaking his head, muttering, "It's okay."

"Here," said Draco, arriving at his compartment. He gestured for Harry to sit opposite of him and the two boys.

"Oh, this is Vincent Crabbe and this is Gregory Goyle," Draco said, noticing where Harry was looking. Vincent and Gregory both looked extremely mean and thickset.

Harry raised his hand slightly in greeting. Vincent grunted and Gregory said nothing.

Draco was talking to Harry about his father and the Dark Lord.

" – my father is a honorable man now, but he used to work for You-Know-Who –"

"You mean Voldemort?"

Draco, Vincent, and Gregory all gasped.

"You said his name!" said Draco.

"I'm not trying to be brave or anything," Harry said, "I just didn't know you weren't supposed to…"

"It's cool," said Draco. "Anyways, You-Know-Who was great – did great things –"

"He killed my parents," Harry said quietly.

The compartment went very silent.

"Harry," Draco said, "my father thinks that the reason you survived is because you're a great Dark wizard yourself. Since You-Know-Who has fallen, he thought that you would rise to power and his old supporters could all rally to you."

Harry still didn't speak. He was deep in thought. _Harry Potter, a Dark wizard_? It sounded evil, and Harry didn't think he was evil.

A great clattering outside in the corridor interrupted his thoughts. A smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Harry hadn't had any breakfast, so he leapt to his feet with Draco, clutching his money bag. He prepared to ask the lady for a Mars Bar – but she didn't have any Mars Bars. Instead, she had Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and a number of other things Harry had never seen in his life.

"First time seeing all this, eh?" Draco said, trying hard not to laugh at the expression on Harry's face. "Here, buy some Pumpkin Pasties and Chocolate Frogs. They're the best." Harry followed his advice and bought three Pasties and a small pack of Chocolate Frogs. Then Draco made a big show of buying a bag of Every Flavor Beans and a couple of Cauldron Cakes, dishing out the money in a way that clearly said, "Look at me, I'm rich."

They sat back down in the compartment and piled their foods together. It was a great feeling, eating their way through everything. Harry had never had anything to share before, or even anybody to share it with.

"What are these?" Harry asked Draco, opening a pack of Chocolate Frogs. "These aren't _really_ frogs, right?"

"No," Draco said. "You can collect the cards inside them, though. They're of famous witches and wizards. Who knows, maybe father will have his own Chocolate Frog card someday."

Harry pulled out a Chocolate Frog and handed the bag to Draco. He unwrapped it and pulled out the card. It showed a man with half-moon glasses, a long, crooked nose, and flowing silver hair, beard and mustache. Underneath the picture was the name "Albus Dumbledore".

"So _this _is Dumbledore," Harry said.

"What?" said Draco, tearing his eyes away from a Merlin card. "Oh, him. Father thinks he's a little off his rocker, and I must say, I agree."

Harry turned over the card and read:

ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

Currently Headmaster of Hogwarts

Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.

By the time they finished everything, Harry was stuffed and feeling dreamy. He had just drifted off to sleep when the compartment door slid open again. There was a boy with a round face standing in the doorway, and a girl who was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.

"Who would want a toad?" Draco said, mocking the girl's voice. "It must not really like you, or else it wouldn't run away." Vincent and Gregory snickered.

The girl stuck her tongue out, and the two left, looking miffed.

Harry stared out the window. It was getting dark. He could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. The train actually seemed to be slowing down.

"We'd better hurry up and get our robes on," said Draco, following Harry's gaze out the window. They pulled off their jackets and pulled on their long black robes. As they got their trunks ready, a voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

"Oh, okay," said Draco, dropping his trunk.

He opened the compartment door and joined the crowd thronging the corridor.

The train slowed, and then stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out onto a tiny, dark platform. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a familiar voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"

It was Hagrid, beckoning a group of kids down a steep, narrow path. "Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts here," Hagrid called over his shoulder, leading them around a bend.

There was a loud "Oooooooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Draco, Harry, Vincent, and Gregory shared a boat (Vincent and Gregory sitting on opposite ends because Draco was terrified that the boat would tip over). He looked over his shoulder as the fleet of boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, and saw the Weasley boy sitting in the same boat with the bossy girl and Neville.

After a while, they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles. Then they trekked up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here? All righ', then, welcome to Hogwarts."

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.


	3. Chapter 3 - First Time in Hogwarts

[Hogwarts]

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Harry's first thought was that this was not someone to cross.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big Harry was sure the whole of the Dursleys' house could fit in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right – the rest of the school must already be here – but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting. I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly."

And with that, Professor McGonagall left the chamber. Harry swallowed.

"How exactly do they Sort us into houses?" he asked Draco.

"Father told me it has something to do with a hat," Draco replied.

A hat? That was very odd. Before he had time to ponder about it, something happened that made him jump a foot into the air – while some people screamed behind him.

About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years.

"Move along, now," said a sharp voice. Professor McGonagall had returned. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start. Now form a line, and follow me."

Harry got into line behind a boy with sandy hair, with Draco behind him, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Harry had never imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candle-light. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard the bossy girl whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in _Hogwarts, A History_."

Harry quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. _So it does have something to do with a hat,_ thought Harry.

Suddenly, the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth – and the hat began to sing:

_"Oh you may not think me pretty,__  
But don't judge on what you see,__  
I'll eat myself if you can find__  
A smarter hat than me.__  
You can keep your bowlers black,__  
Your top hats sleek and tall,__  
For I'm the __Hogwarts __Sorting Hat__  
And I can cap them all.__  
There's nothing hidden in your head__  
The Sorting Hat can't see,__  
So try me on and I will tell you__  
Where you ought to be.__  
You might belong in __Gryffindor__,__  
Where dwell the brave at heart,__  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry__  
Set __Gryffindor__s apart;__  
You might belong in __Hufflepuff__,__  
Where they are just and loyal,__  
Those patient __Hufflepuff__s are true__  
And unafraid of toil;__  
Or yet in wise old __Ravenclaw__,__  
if you've a ready mind,__  
Where those of wit and learning,__  
Will always find their kind;__  
Or perhaps in __Slytherin__  
You'll make your real friends,__  
Those cunning folks use any means__  
To achieve their ends.__  
So put me on! Don't be afraid!__  
And don't get in a flap!__  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)__  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, and sat down. A moment's pause –

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender," became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Finnigan, Seamus!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Granger, Hermione!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Longbottom, Neville!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Neville ran off to the Gryffindor table still wearing the hat, and had to job back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag".

Draco swaggered forward when his name was called – the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Draco went to join his friends Vincent and Gregory, looking please with himself.

"Moon"…"Nott"…"Parkinson"…"Patil" and "Patil"… "Perks" …then at last –

"Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"_Potter_, did she say?"

"_The _Harry Potter?"

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. He waited.

"Hmm…" said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes – and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting…So where shall I put you?"

Harry gripped the edges of the stool. He wished the hat would hurry up.

"You want me to hurry, eh?" said the small voice. "Let me think - I think Slytherin would be fine, it's all in your head, and Slytherin will help you on your way to greatness. SLYTHERIN!"

Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walked shakily to the Slytherin table. He hardly noticed he was getting the loudest cheer yet. Half the kids were pounding the tables, screaming themselves hoarse, while Draco Malfoy pounded Harry on the back. Several of them were sticking out their tongues at the other tables, which Harry thought was a bit too far.

He could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest him sat Hagrid, who caught his eye and gave him the thumbs up. Harry grinned back.

And now there were only four people left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean" became a Gryffindor. "Turnpin, Lisa" joined the Ravenclaws.

"Weasley, Ronald!"

The red-haired boy became a Gryffindor as "Zabini, Blaise" was made a Slytherin. Harry clapped with the rest of the table as Blaise joined them. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not.

"See what I mean about Dumbledore being off his rocker?" Draco muttered to Harry. Harry nodded.

"Potatoes, Harry?" asked Draco.

Harry's mouth fell open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. There was roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, and ketchup.

Harry piled his plate with a bit of everything and began to eat.

A ghost covered with silver blood stains and a gaunt face stared at them. "So, new Slytherins," he began. "I hope you're going to help us win the house championship this year? Slytherins have never gone so long without winning – it's either been Gryffindor or Ravenclaw for the past decade! The Gray Lady and Nearly Headless Nick have been pestering me about it – they're driving me nuts!"

After they finished their food and dessert, the food vanished from the plates and Albus Dumbledore got up again.

"Ahem – just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.

"And now, bedtime. Follow your prefects into your dormitories."

The Slytherin first years grouped together and followed one of the prefects – Gemma Farley, down hidden doorways and secret staircases, until they arrived at a dungeon.

"This is the entrance to the Slytherin Dungeon," Gemma announced. "It's behind this stone wall, and this week's password is 'dittany'."

The wall slid open, revealing a tunnel. They climbed through it and found themselves in the Slytherin common room, a vast room with greenish lamps. Low-backed black and dark green leather sofas dotted the area, complete with buttons, skulls, and dark wood cupboards. Here and there were tapestries depicting the adventures of famous Medieval Slytherins.

"Boys' dormitory down here," Gemma said, pointing to the staircase on her left. "Girls, over here." She led the girls down their staircase, leaving the boys to go down theirs alone. At last, they reached a room and found their beds – six flat, cushiony beds set on the ground. The pillows and blankets were green and had the Slytherin crest on them. Their trunks had already been brought down. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed.

"G'nite," Harry murmured sleepily, before drifting off to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4 - First Lessons

Whispers followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory the next day. It really was quite annoying. People lined up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at him, or doubled back to pass him in the corridors again, staring. Harry wished they wouldn't, because he was trying to concentrate on finding his way to classes.

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harry was sure the coats of armor could walk.

The ghosts didn't help, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. Peeves the Poltergeist was the most unhelpful; he was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if a student met him when they were late for class. He would drop wastepaper baskets on their head, pull rugs from under their feet, pelt them with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind them, invisible, grab their nose, and screech, "GOT YOUR CONK!"

Even worse than Peeves if that was possible, was the caretaker, Argus Filch. Harry and Draco managed to get on the wrong side of him on their very first morning. Filch found them trying to force their way through a door that unluckily turned out to be the entrance to the out-of-bounds corridor on the third floor. Filch wouldn't believe the boys were lost, and was sure they were trying to break into it on purpose. He threatened to lock Harry in the dungeons when he was rescued by Professor Quirrell, who was passing. ("Wait until my father hears about this," Draco had muttered.)

Filch owned a cat called Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature with bulging, lamp-like eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she'd whisk off for Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds later. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than most, and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students all hated him, and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs. Norris a good kick.

And then, once they managed to find them, there were the classes themselves. There was a lot more to magic, as Harry quickly found out, than waving his wand and saying a few funny words. They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for.

Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and got Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first class he took the roll call, and when he reached Harry's name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight.

Professor McGonagall was again different. Harry had been quite right to think she wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. Nobody managed to do it by the end of the lesson, although Harry's had gone a little pointy at the end.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story.

When Theodore Nott asked how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather. Draco scoffed and whispered to Harry, "This bloke is a nutter."

Friday was an important day for Harry. He finally managed to find his way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once.

"What have we got today?" Harry asked Draco as he poured sugar on his porridge.

"Double Potions with the Gryffindors," said Draco in disgust. "At least Snape favors us."

Just then, the mail arrived. Harry had gotten used to this by now, but it had given him a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps. Of course, Draco's eagle owl always dropped a package into his lap, filled with sweets and candy sent from his parents. He rarely let anybody share the candy except Harry.

Hedwig hadn't brought Harry anything so far. She sometimes flew in to nibble his ear and have a bit of toast before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note onto Harry's plate. Harry tore it open at once. It said, in a very untidy scrawl:

_Dear Harry, _

_I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig._

_Hagrid_

Harry extracted a quill from his pocket, scribbled _Yes, please, see you later_ on the back of the note, and sent Hedwig off again. Noticing Draco reading the letter over his shoulder, he asked, "Do you want to come with me?"

"No way! Isn't Hagrid that savage gamekeeper? I don't want to meet him!" Draco said haughtily.

Harry wanted to slap Draco, but also wanted to avoid a fight. "He's not that bad once you get to know him. Fine, I'll just go by myself," he said, trying hard to keep his voice from rising.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new - celebrity." He resumed the roll call, and upon finishing he looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made Harry think of dark tunnels.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word - like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort.

"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. The bossy girl, Hermione Granger, was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Powdered root of what to an infusion of what? Harry looked at Draco, sitting next to him, who shrugged. Hermione's hand had shot into the air.

"I don't know, sir," said Harry.

Snape's lips curled into a slight sneer.

"Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything."

He ignored Hermione's hand. "Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat. Harry had the faintest memory of coming across the word in his copy of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_. He tried hard to remember. _A stone taken from the something of a something_, he thought. He remembered the picture, of a goat cut open –

"Er…would I look in the stomach of a goat?"

Snape stared at him, and Harry forced himself to keep looking into those cold, black eyes.

"Correct."

Hermione finally sat down, looking disappointed.

Snape clearly disliked the Gryffindors, something that showed as Potions lesson continued. He put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Draco, whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Draco had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville Longbottom had somehow managed to melt Seamus Finnigan's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Longbottom, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Finnigan. Then he rounded on Dean Thomas and Ron Weasley, who had been working next to Neville. "You - Weasley - why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's a point you've lost for Gryffindor."

Draco hid his snigger behind a hacking cough as Harry stirred their potion. Throughout the whole class, Snape kept eyeing him, sometimes with curiosity, sometimes with burning hatred.

At five to three Harry left the castle and made his way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.

When Harry knocked he heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang - back."

Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang."

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound.

There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.

"Make yerself at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Harry and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked. He placed a plate of rock cakes onto the table.

The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke his teeth, but Harry pretended to be enjoying them as he told Hagrid all about his first lessons. Fang rested his head on Harry's knee and drooled all over his robes.

Harry was delighted to hear Hagrid call Filch "that old git." "An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like ter introduce her ter Fang sometime. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her - Filch puts her up to it."

Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson. Hagrid told Harry not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students.

"But he seemed to really hate me."

"Rubbish!" said Hagrid. "Why should he?"

Yet Harry couldn't help thinking that Hagrid didn't quite meet his eyes when he said that.

Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet:

GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown. Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.

"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.

"Hagrid!" said Harry, "that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

There was no doubt about it, Hagrid definitely didn't meet Harry's eyes this time. He grunted and offered him another rock cake. Harry read the story again. _The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same day._ Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen, if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were looking for?

As Harry walked back to the castle for dinner, his pockets weighed down with rock cakes he'd been too polite to refuse, Harry thought that none of the lessons he'd had so far had given him as much to think about as tea with Hagrid. Had Hagrid collected that package just in time? Where was it now? And did Hagrid know something about Snape that he didn't want to tell Harry?


	5. Chapter 5 - The Flying and the Dueling

Harry had never hated a Gryffindor before. He never got the urge to yell at them. They were just students, like him. Sadly, the same thing could not be said for his fellow Slytherins, especially Draco. They never missed an oppourtunity to insult the Gryffindors, and often, the Gryffindors fought right back. Harry hadn't received an insult from the Gryffindors yet, though.

This made things extremely unsettling, as Harry was unwilling to fight with other houses, and vice versa. However, his Slytherin friends traded insults with the Gryffindors, leaving Harry in an awkward position in the middle. He was always glad when a teacher showed up and sent them off.

Still, first-year Slytherins only had Potions with the Gryffindors, so Harry didn't have to put up with the bickering much. Or at least, he didn't until he spotted a notice pinned up in the Slytherin common room that made him groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday - and Slytherin and Gryffindor would be learning together.

Draco was talking with the rest of the Slytherins about flying. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. Harry only listened because Draco was his friend.

Draco wasn't the only one, though: the way Blaise Zabini told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Pansy Parkinson would tell anyone who'd listen about the time she'd almost hit a hang glider on her family's old broom.

Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Vincent and Gregory had already had a heated argument about which International Quidditch team was the best, although it was a bit pathetic.

Harry had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else. But now that he knew the Gryffindors were going to be there, he felt his stomach tie itself into a knot. Not that he hated the Gryffindors – it just meant that there was going to be plenty of fighting.

A barn owl brought Longbottom a small package from his grandmother at breakfast. He opened it excitedly and showed the Gryffindor table a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke. Harry and Draco, who were passing with Vincent and Gregory, caught what he was saying.

"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things – this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red - oh..." His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, "You've forgotten something..."

Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco lunged and snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.

Weasley and Finnigan jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Draco, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Scowling, Draco quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.

"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Harry following behind him. Harry cast an apologetic look to the Gryffindors.

At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry, Draco, and the other Slytherins hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the Forbidden Forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Gryffindors were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!"'

"UP!" everyone shouted.

Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Longbottom's hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Harry; there was a quaver in Longbottom's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Draco glared at Harry enviously when Madam Hooch told Harry his grip was perfect, while telling Draco that he'd been doing it wrong for years. The Gryffindors sniggered loudly.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle – three – two – "

But Longbottom, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Longbottom was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle - twelve feet – twenty feet. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and –

WHAM - a thud and a nasty crack and Longbottom lay facedown on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the Forbidden Forest and out of sight.

Madam Hooch was bending over Longbottom, her face as white as his.

"Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on, boy - it's all right, up you get."

She turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing. You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Longbottom, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Draco burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The other Slytherins (except Harry) joined in.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

"Draco, please, I don't want trouble," said Harry quietly.

Draco smiled nastily.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find – how about – up a tree?"

The Slytherins were nodding their approval, but Harry squirmed inside.

"Draco," Harry said again, warningly.

"You want to help the Gryffindors?" shouted Draco, leaping onto his broomstick and taking off. He hadn't been lying, he _could_ fly well. "_Famous_ Harry Potter is siding with the riffraff?"

Harry grabbed his broomstick. Nobody stopped him, although Hermione Granger was looking really uncomfortable.

"Please, Draco," Harry pleaded.

"No. You want this, you come and get it!"

Blood was pounding in Harry's ear. Draco was being an idiot. He mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground. Up he soared; air rushed through his hair, and his robes whipped out behind him -and in a rush of fierce joy he realized he'd found something he could do without being taught – this was easy, this was wonderful. He pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher, and heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground.

He turned his broomstick sharply to face Draco in midair. He looked stunned.

"Give it here," Harry called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!"

"Oh, yeah?" said Draco, trying to sneer, but looking worried.

Harry knew, somehow, what to do. He leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Draco like a javelin. Draco only just got out of the way in time; Harry made a sharp about-face and held the broom steady. A few people below were clapping.

They chased after each other while the watching crowd below stared at them. Draco dived, Harry after him, and then Harry made a sharp right turn that blocked Draco's way; Draco was forced to swerve to avoid collision. He pulled his broom up, flying high into the air, and Harry tore after him.

"BOYS!" came a voice. Harry's heart sank along with his broom. Draco, shocked, remained floating in the air. Madam Hooch came running over to them, her body shaking with anger.

Harry stood there numbly, his legs feeling like lead. Weasley immediately piped into speech.

"Madam Hooch, after you left, Malfoy tried to steal Neville's Remembrall. Harry was only flying because he was trying to get it back from him. If someone should be punished, it should be Malfoy," he said eagerly, clearly wanting Draco to get into trouble, but not Harry.

Madam Hooch's eyes glinted dangerously, then faded. "You two fly extremely well," she said finally. "Potter, was that your first time on a broomstick?"

Harry nodded.

"I will speak to Severus about bending the first-year Quidditch rule. Maybe we could get you two onto the Slytherin Quidditch team. Now get back up to the castle, class is over."

As they trudged up to the castle, Harry was torn between happiness at the possibility of being on the Quidditch team and guilt at the looks the Slytherins and Gryffindors were passing to each other. Again, Harry was left out of it, but he felt he deserved an insult too.

It was dinnertime. Harry was shoveling mashed potatoes into his mouth when Draco said, "Harry, I am furious about the way you acted today during flying lessons. Slytherins never, _ever,_ help Gryffindors in any way. In fact, they hate each other on principal. But, I have decided to forgive you after you helped me get on the Quidditch team."

"Shut up, you're not my teacher," Harry said, laughing.

After dinner, they made their way to the Slytherin common room, and a burly sixth-year strode over to the sofa Harry and Draco were resting on.

"Marcus Flint!" Draco said.

"Hey, boys. Snape just spoke to me about what happened today – I think we could add you two on the team. Tryouts are tomorrow, and you just _might_ make the team." He held his hand out to Harry. "Marcus Flint, Quidditch Captain."

Harry reached out and shook. Then Flint strode off, leaving Draco looking annoyed. Harry began to wonder why when Draco muttered, "Why does everybody care about _you_?"

Harry shrugged and trodded off to a nearby table to begin his homework. Draco joined him not long afterwards.

The next day arrived in a flash. Before he knew it, Harry's classes were over, he had finished eating dinner, and he was walking down to the Quidditch pitch with Draco.

He'd never been inside the stadium before. Hundreds of seats were raised in stands around the field so that the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At both ends of the field were three golden poles with hoops on the end. They reminded Harry of the little plastic sticks Muggle children blew bubbles through, except that they were fifty feet high.

Harry and Draco joined the small knot of Slytherins gathered around the changing room. At once Harry could tell he and Draco were the smallest – the rest were fourth-year or older.

"Shut up and pay attention!" came a fierce voice. It was Marcus Flint. "Get a broomstick, and tryouts will begin. We'll start with Seekers."

Harry grabbed a school broom and marched out onto the field. Draco had told him everything about Quidditch, so he felt mildly comfortable. Flint was testing the Seekers by releasing the Golden Snitch three times and timing how fast the tryout could catch them.

A rather plump fifth-year took a minute to catch the Snitch each time. The second person, Terrence Higgs, did much better – about twelve seconds average. Then it was Draco's turn. The first time, it seemed the Snitch was taunting him. It would fly inches from his outstretched fingers, and when Draco put on a burst of speed, the Snitch would fall back, forcing Draco to turn and repeat the whole thing. It took him twenty seconds to finally ensnare the Snitch in his hand.

The second time, the Snitch flew straight into his palm – two seconds. The third time, Draco actually chased it across the pitch, and took nine seconds.

"Your average is about ten seconds," said Flint. "You're the best one so far." Draco looked extremely smug as he soared back to the ground.

Then it was Harry's turn. Flint released the Snitch and it flew away immediately, off in the opposite direction. Harry tore after it. The Snitch led Harry through a series of loops, twists, and turns, and then Harry finally caught it, at ten seconds.

The Slytherins who had finished their dinner came out to watch, and Harry saw Pansy Parkinson let out a whoop. He handed the Golden Snitch back to Flint, who released it again. Harry swerved straight in front of the Snitch after a couple seconds of chasing, and the Snitch, startled, crashed straight into him. Harry gently picked it off his shirt, and handed it back to Flint again. "Nice job," he said, looking impressed. "That was four seconds."

The third time was even better than the first two – Harry outflew it by sheer speed, and caught it in three seconds. The Slytherins below let out a huge cheer. Harry grinned, gently flying towards the ground. He caught sight of Draco, and his smile vanished instantly.

"All right, Harry! Man, you sure got some talent! You're on – as Seeker," said Flint, grinning from ear to ear.

"No!" said Draco loudly. Everybody turned to look at him.

"What?" said Flint.

"I'm going to be the team Seeker. Harry only got lucky!" Draco said, taking a step closer towards Flint.

"No," retorted Marcus Flint fiercely, glaring down at Draco. "Harry beat you. We need to win the Quidditch Cup, and you're not going to help us do that."

"Tell you what," Draco said, eyes glinting maliciously. "You let me on the team as Seeker – and I'll buy the whole team Nimbus Two-Thousands."

Harry could see the cogs turning in Flint's head. He didn't really care about being the Seeker – he just wanted to be on the team. So he said, "Just let him be Seeker, Flint. I'll just try out for a Chaser. I don't mind."

"Okay, then," said Flint. "You better keep your promise, Draco." He jabbed a finger into Draco's chest, then left, ready to try out the Chasers.

Later, Draco and Harry were getting ready to leave the Great Hall after dinner. Flint had accepted Harry onto the team, the best Chaser he'd tried out. Harry found that he'd rather be a Chaser than a Seeker because the Chasers really did all the work. The Seeker only finished things off.

"Hold it, Malfoy."

Harry and Draco spun around. Ron Weasley was standing there, red-faced and gripping his wand.

"What do you want, Weasley? I have more important matters to attend to than talking to a filthy Gryffindor," Draco said.

"I'm sick of you," Weasley snarled. "How about a wizard's duel tonight at midnight? Wands only – we'll do it in the trophy room, that's always unlocked."

"I'd take you on anytime, Weasley. Harry'll be my second, although I doubt he'll even need to come," said Draco.

"Dean Thomas will be my second. Now get out of my sight," said Weasley.

"With pleasure," Draco responded.

As soon as they were out of earshot Harry muttered, "What _is_ a wizard's duel? And what do you mean, I'm your second?"

"A second is there to take over if the first person dies," said Draco carelessly, then catching the look on Harry's face, he quickly said, "Oh, I'm not dying from Weasley's pathetic spells. The most I'd die from would be from laughter."

"Are you sure about this?" Harry asked uncertainly. "We're going to lose points for Slytherin."

"Relax," Draco said. "We won't get caught. Now let's get started on our homework."

Harry lay awake in bed, unable to sleep with the prospect of a duel. Finally, it was five till midnight, and Draco crawled out of bed and poked Harry in the ribs. "Get up," he whispered. Harry sat up, wide awake, and pulled on robes over his pajamas. They exited the Slytherin dormitory as quietly as possible, wincing when the stone wall creaked shut.

The two flitted along the corridors, Draco in the lead. At every turn Harry expected to run into Filch or Mrs. Norris, but they were lucky. They sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed toward the trophy room.

Weasley and Thomas weren't there yet. They crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. They edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room.

"Take out your wand," hissed Draco. "Weasley might jump in and start fighting immediately."

Harry did so, but nobody appeared. The minutes crept by.

"He's late. I thought as much. He's probably chickened out," snorted Draco.

Then a noise in the next room made them jump. Harry had only just raised his wand when they heard someone speak – and it wasn't Weasley or Thomas.

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."

It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. Horror-struck, Harry waved madly at Draco to follow him as quickly as possible; they scurried silently toward the door, away from Filch's voice. Draco's robes had barely whipped round the corner when they heard Filch enter the trophy room.

"They're in here somewhere," they heard him mutter, "probably hiding."

"This way!" Draco mouthed to Harry and, petrified, they began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor. They could hear Filch getting nearer. Draco tripped over a suit of armor's foot and grabbed Harry by the neck to try and steady himself. The two toppled right into another suit of armor.

The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle.

"RUN!" Harry yelled, and they sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following - they swung around the doorpost and galloped down one corridor then another, Harry in the lead, without any idea where they were or where they were going - they ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came out near their Charms classroom, which they knew was miles from the trophy room.

"I think we've lost him," Harry panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping his forehead. Draco was bent double, coughing and spluttering.

"We've got to get back to the Slytherin dungeon," wheezed Draco, "quickly as possible."

"Weasley tricked us," Harry said, fury rising now that the danger was gone. "You realize that, don't you? He was never going to meet you – Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Weasley must have tipped him off."

A cold feeling was beginning to grip him. He had never hated the Gryffindors before – but this encounter proved that Draco was right. They really were nasty and terrible. He walked numbly through the corridors, only roused when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them.

It was Peeves. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight.

"Shut up, Peeves – please – you'll get us thrown out."

Peeves cackled.

"Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please."

"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. "It's for your own good, you know."

"Get out of the way," snapped Draco, taking a swipe at Peeves.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

Ducking under Peeves, Harry and Draco ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door – and it was locked.

"This is it!" Harry moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door, "We're done for! This is the end!" They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could toward Peeves's shouts.

"Oh, move over," Draco said. He pulled out his wand, tapped the lock, and whispered, "Alohomora!"

The lock clicked and the door swung open – Harry and Draco piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.

"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me."

"Say 'please.'"

"Don't mess with me, Peeves, now where did they go?"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice.

"All right – please."

"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!" And they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.

"He thinks this door is locked," Harry whispered. "I think we'll be okay – stop it, Draco!" For Draco had been tugging on the sleeve of Harry's bathrobe for the last minute. "What is it?"

Harry turned around – and saw, quite clearly, what it was. For a moment, he was sure he'd walked into a nightmare – this was too much, on top of everything that had happened so far.

They weren't in a room, as he had supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden.

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads.

Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Harry knew that the only reason they weren't already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

Harry groped for the doorknob – between Filch and death, he'd take Filch.

Harry and Draco fell backward – Harry slammed the door shut, and they ran, almost flew, back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for them somewhere else, because they didn't see him anywhere, but they hardly cared – all they wanted to do was put as much space as possible between them and that monster. They didn't stop running until they reached the stone wall in the dungeon.

"Dittany," gasped Harry, and the stone wall creaked open. Harry and Draco scrambled into the common room and collapsed, trembling, into armchairs.

It was a while before any of them said anything. Harry, having finally regained his breath, said, "What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school? If any dog needs exercise, that one does."

"It was guarding something," said Draco. "It was standing on a trapdoor. I saw it."

Draco had given Harry something else to think about as he climbed back into bed. The dog was guarding something... What had Hagrid said? Gringotts was the safest place in the world for something to be hidden – except Hogwarts.

It looked as though Harry had found out where the grubby little package from vault seven hundred and thirteen was.


	6. Chapter 6 - A Halloween Surprise

By the time Harry was dressed the next morning, something else had taken his mind off the three-headed dog in the forbidden corridor. The cold fury was flooding through him again, hardening his heart. The Gryffindors were stupid, nasty riffraff – he couldn't believe that he had ever thought that they were actually decent.

He told Draco about this, and Draco listened, looking impressed. "You've finally cottoned on. Now you see what I've been trying to tell you? Gryffindors are evil – that's why they hate us cunning Slytherins so much."

At breakfast, Weasley couldn't believe his eyes when he saw that Harry and Draco were still at Hogwarts the next day. Harry strode right up to him, gave him a glowering look, and said, "You filthy Weasley – you deserve nothing more than being in stinking Gryffindor." He snarled at the Gryffindor table, then went to join his table, leaving Weasley standing there, looking thunderstruck. As Weasley trodded to the Gryffindor table, Harry saw that many Gryffindors were shooting Weasley poisonous looks. Harry and Draco exchanged smirks.

Harry and Draco exchanged theories about what could possibly need such heavy protection (Harry having filled in Draco on the package Hagrid had taken from vault seven hundred and thirteen). But as all they knew was that the object was about two inches long, they didn't have much chance guessing what it was without further clues.

The only thing they wanted now was a way to get back at Weasley, and to their great delight, just such a thing arrived in the mail a week later.

As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, everyone's attention was caught at once by seven long, thin packages carried by six large screech owls each. Harry was just as interested as everyone else to see what was in these large parcels. The owls swooped and deposited the packages all at the Slytherin table – one in front of Harry, one in front of Draco, and one in front of Marcus Flint, Adrian Pucey, Miles Bletchley, Lucian Bole, and Peregrine Derrick.

Harry tore his open along with the other Slytherins that had received a parcel, and before long there were seven Nimbus Two-Thousands resting on the table. Harry gazed at his with admiration. Sleek and shiny, with a mahogany handle, it had a long tail of neat, straight twigs and Nimbus Two Thousand written in gold near the top.

"Wow," sighed Marcus Flint as people from the other tables walked over, throwing looks of jealousy at the Slytherins. Flint pounded Draco on the back. "Well, glad to see you've kept your promise."

Draco looked extremely smug, and he and Harry both cheered up even more when they saw Weasley stalk over.

"It's a shame that you had to buy your way onto the team, Malfoy," he said loudly, spite and jealousy clouding his face.

"At least he can buy a broomstick," said Harry coolly. "I bet you can't even afford half the handle of one. I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig."

The Slytherins roared with laughter as Weasley returned to the Gryffindor table, red-faced.

Perhaps it was because he was now so busy, what with Quidditch practice three evenings a week on top of all his homework, but Harry could hardly believe it when he realized that he'd already been at Hogwarts two months. The castle felt more like home than Privet Drive ever had. His lessons, too, were becoming more and more interesting now that they had mastered the basics.

On Halloween morning they woke to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly, something they had all been dying to try since they'd seen him make his desk zoom around the classroom. Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practice. Harry's partner was Theodore Nott. Draco's was Blaise Zabini.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too - never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

It was very difficult. Harry and Theodore swished and flicked, but the feather they were supposed to be sending skyward just lay on the desktop. Nearby, Draco and Blaise were having trouble as well.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Draco shouted, waving his arms.

The feather hovered an inch off the desk, then dropped back down onto the desk in a couple of seconds.

"Did you see that?" Draco said excitedly. "Nobody else has so much as lifted their feather – wow, I'm amazing!"

In the evening they made their way down to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, where the Halloween decorations made Harry stop dead.

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet. Harry was just helping himself to a baked potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face.

Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll - in the dungeons - thought you ought to know."

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

The prefects did their best, ushering small groups of students through the masses of other students running amok. Harry and Draco got themselves lost in a particularly large group of Hufflepuffs, and by the time they untangled themselves, the other Slytherins were nowhere in sight.

"Let's go," hissed Draco, leading Harry down a corridor.

Ducking down, they joined the Hufflepuffs going the other way, slipped down a deserted side corridor, and hurried off toward the Slytherin dungeon. They had just turned the corner when they heard quick footsteps behind them.

Harry and Draco quickly hid behind a large stone griffin.

Peering around it, they saw Snape. He crossed the corridor and disappeared from view.

"What's he doing?" Harry whispered. "Why isn't he down in the dungeons with the rest of the teachers?"

"Search me."

Quietly as possible, they crept along the next corridor after Snape's fading footsteps.

"He's heading for the third floor," Harry said, but Draco stopped him before Harry could move and said, "Do you smell something?"

Harry sniffed and a foul stench reached his nostrils, a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean.

And then they heard it - a low grunting, and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet. A the end of a passage to the left, something huge was moving toward them. Harry and Draco shrank into the shadows and watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight.

It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room.

"The key's in the lock," Harry muttered. "We could lock it in."

"Good idea," said Draco.

They edged toward the open door, mouths dry, praying the troll wasn't about to come out of it. With one great leap, Harry managed to grab the key, slam the door, and lock it.

'Yes!"

Flushed with their victory, they started to run back up the passage, but as they reached the corner they heard something that made their hearts stop - a high, petrified scream - and it was coming from the chamber they'd just chained up.

"What was that?" said Draco, pale as the Bloody Baron. "Come on, Harry, let's tell the teachers, they can sort this out."

Before they had run two paces, another blood-curdling scream echoed through the chamber. Harry turned back and unlocked the door. He pulled the door open and they ran inside.

Hermione Granger was shrinking against the wall opposite, looking as if she was about to faint. The troll was advancing on her, knocking the sinks off the walls as it went.

"What!" said Draco loudly. "It's that Granger girl. No way I'm helping her! What is she even doing in here?"

Harry was with him, but they were there already, and Hermione had spotted them.

"Help me, please!" she screamed.

"Confuse it!" Harry said desperately to Draco, and, seizing a tap, he threw it as hard as he could against the wall.

The troll stopped a few feet from Hermione. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly, to see what had made the noise. Its mean little eyes saw Harry. It hesitated, then made for him instead, lifting its club as it went.

Draco sniffed. "You want to be noble, you fight. I'm a pureblood, remember? I don't have time for this."

He stalked off, waiting outside the bathroom.

"Come on, run, run!" Harry yelled at Hermione, trying to pull her toward the door, but she couldn't move, she was still flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror.

Harry grabbed a sink and hurled it across the bathroom. It crumpled to the ground with a horrible screeching thud.

The troll turned towards the sound of the noise, his back to Harry, who raised his wand. He had been practicing a spell lately, in case somebody agitated him.

"_Petrificus Totalus_!" shouted Harry, and the troll froze, and with an earsplitting crash, hit the floor, unable to move.

Draco raced in, thunderstruck at what Harry had done. Hermione got to her feet, staring at the two Slytherins.

"Um, thanks, Harry," she said uncertainly.

Harry merely shrugged and turned away, looking at the floor.

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the three of them look up. They hadn't realized what a racket they had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart.

Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at Ron and Harry. Harry had never seen her look so angry. Her lips were white. Hopes of winning fifty points for Slytherin faded quickly from Harry's mind.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you students in your dormitory?"

"Please, Professor McGonagall – they saved my life. I was in the bathroom, and if they hadn't shown up, I would be dead by now. They didn't have time to fetch anyone – the troll was about to finish me off when they arrived."

Despite his hatred toward Gryffindors, Harry felt a grudging admiration rise to the surface of his heart for Hermione Granger.

"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," said Professor McGonagall. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."

Hermione left.

Professor McGonagall turned to Harry and Draco.

"Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Slytherin five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go."

They hurried out of the chamber and didn't speak at all until they had climbed two floors up. It was a relief to be away from the smell of the troll, quite apart from anything else.

"We should have gotten more than ten points," Draco grumbled.

"_We_?" repeated Harry incredulously. "What do you mean, _we_? I was the one who did all the work."

"I still went into the bathroom, though," argued Draco.

"_'You want to be noble, you fight. I'm a pureblood, remember? I don't have time for this_,'" mimicked Harry, sneering at Draco.

"Whatever. C'mon, let's go and finish the Halloween feast."

Harry and Draco were badgered by all of the Slytherins to know what fighting the troll was like. Harry was glad to answer the questions while shoveling as many Pumpkin Pasties as he could into his mouth, but he had to keep telling Draco to shut up, because his version of events were completely different from Harry's.

From that moment on, Hermione became a sort of friend to Harry. He didn't really care that Hermione was in Gryffindor, because she was nice, helpful, and even sort of funny at times. The only problem was that Harry and Hermione had to meet in the library, because Draco refused to remain in Harry's presence when Hermione was around.


	7. Chapter 7 - The Quidditch Match

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots.

The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry would be playing in his first match after weeks of training: Slytherin versus Gryffindor. If Slytherin won, they would move up into first place in the house championship.

It was really lucky that Harry now had Hermione as a "friend". He didn't know how he'd have gotten through all his homework without her, what with all the last-minute Quidditch practice that was going on (Draco was struggling madly to keep up with his homework). She had also lent him _Quidditch Through the Ages_, which turned out to be a very interesting read.

Harry learned that there were seven hundred ways of committing a Quidditch foul and that all of them had happened during a World Cup match in 1473; that Seekers were usually the smallest and fastest players, and that most serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to them; that although people rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert.

The day before the Quidditch match, Harry was crossing the yard between classes with Draco, Vincent, and Gregory, discussing Quidditch tactics, when Snape crossed the yard. Harry noticed at once that Snape was limping. He turned in their direction and struggled over. He seemed to be looking for a reason to tell Harry off, without paying the slightest attention to the other three.

"What's that you've got there, Potter?"

It was _Quidditch Through the Ages_. Harry showed him.

"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," said Snape. "Give it to me. You're lucky I'm not giving you a detention."

"He's just made that rule up," Harry muttered angrily as Snape limped away. "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"

"Dunno," said Draco. "C'mon, Harry, we'll be late for class."

Harry went to the library for some peace and quiet, because the Slytherin common room was very noisy that evening. Harry and Hermione sat together next to a bookshelf. Hermione was checking Harry's Charms homework for him. She would never let him copy ("How will you learn?"), but by asking her to read it through, he got the right answers anyway.

Harry felt restless. He wanted _Quidditch Through the Ages_ back, to take his mind off his nerves about tomorrow. Why should he be afraid of Snape? Getting up, he told Hermione he was going to ask Snape if he could have it.

"Better you than me," she said, but Harry had an idea that Snape wouldn't refuse if there were other teachers listening.

He made his way down to the staffroom and knocked. There was no answer.

He knocked again. Nothing.

Perhaps Snape had left the book in there? It was worth a try. He pushed the door ajar and peered inside - and a horrible scene met his eyes.

Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages.

"Blasted thing," Snape was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?"

Harry tried to shut the door quietly, but -

"POTTER!"

Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg. Harry gulped.

"I just wondered if I could have my book back."

"GET OUT! OUT!"

Harry left, before Snape could give him a week's worth of detentions. He sprinted back upstairs.

"Did you get it?" Hermione asked as Harry joined her back in the library. Hermione had just finished correcting his homework. "What's the matter?"

In a low whisper, Harry told her what he'd seen.

"You know what this means?" he finished breathlessly. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Halloween! That's where he was going when me and Draco saw him - he's after whatever it's guarding! And Id bet my broomstick he let that troll in, to make a diversion!"

Hermione's eyes were wide. (Harry had told her everything he knew about the dog and the mysterious package beforehand.)

"No - he wouldn't, she said. "I know he's not very nice, but he wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe."

"Whatever," said Harry. "Thanks for checking my homework." He packed his things and left.

Later, in the Slytherin common room, Harry told Draco about Snape's mangled leg.

Draco took the same view as Hermione. "Why would he do that? Snape's not that stupid. But there's one thing I'd like to know – what's that dog guarding?"

Harry went to bed with his head buzzing with the same question. Harry couldn't sleep. He tried to empty his mind - he needed to sleep, he had to, he had his first Quidditch match in a few hours - but the expression on Snape's face when Harry had seen his leg wasn't easy to forget.

The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.

"You've got to eat some breakfast."

"I don't want anything."

"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Pansy Parkinson.

"I'm not hungry."

Harry felt terrible. In an hour's time he'd be walking onto the field.

"Harry, you need your strength," said Draco, who, unlike Harry, was enjoying all the attention.

Harry groaned and half-heartedly spooned some cereal into his mouth.

By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes.

Vincent, Gregory, Theodore, Blaise, and Pansy were sitting together up in the top row. As a surprise for Harry and Draco, they had painted a large banner on a ruined bedsheet. It said Potter the President and Malfoy the Master, and Theodore had scrawled a large Slytherin serpent under it. Then Millicent Bulstrode had performed a tricky little charm so that the paint flashed different colors.

Meanwhile, in the locker room, Harry and the rest of the team were changing into their emerald Quidditch robes (Gryffindor would be playing in red).

"Listen up, gits," said Flint. "We're going to win. The Gryffindors have got this Seeker named Alan McLaggen, and word is that even the Gryffindors can't stand him. So Draco, you shouldn't have a problem with catching the Snitch. Now let's go out there and pummel Gryffindor."

Harry followed Draco out of the locker room and, hoping his knees weren't going to give way, walked onto the field to loud cheers.

Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand.

"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," she said, once they were all gathered around her. Harry noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to Flint. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the fluttering banner high above, flashing Potter the President and Malfoy the Master over the crowd. His heart skipped. He felt braver.

"Mount your brooms, please."

Harry clambered onto his Nimbus Two Thousand.

Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle.

Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off. "And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor – what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too -"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve - back to Johnson and - no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes - Flint flying like an eagle up there - he's going to sc- no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle - that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and - OUCH - that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger - Quaffle taken by the Slytherins - that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger - sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which - nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes - she's really flying - dodges a speeding Bludger - the goal posts are ahead - come on, now, Angelina - Keeper Bletchley dives - misses - GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins.

Harry watched as Adrian grabbed the Quaffle. Fred Weasley swerved and ferociously hit a bludger in Adrian's direction. The bludger collided with his stomach, causing him to drop the Quaffle. Katie Bell of Gryffindor shot forward, ready to snatch the Quaffle, but Harry beat her to it. He grasped the large red ball in his arms, pelting towards the Gryffindor goal posts. He dodged the Bludgers, dived under Keeper Oliver Wood, and threw the Quaffle into one of the goal posts.

The Slytherins below let out a huge cheer. Harry grinned and waved at them, then went back to trying to get the Quaffle.

In five minutes the score was a hundred to ten with Slytherin in the lead, all of the goals scored by Harry. The Slytherins in the stands below were screaming themselves hoarse. The Slytherin Quidditch team members were so happy, they had actually stopped cheating.

It was as Harry dodged another Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past his head, that it happened. His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, he thought he was going to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees. He'd never felt anything like that.

It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harry tried to turn back toward the Slytherin goal posts - he had half a mind to ask Flint to call time-out - and then he realized that his broom was completely out of his control. He couldn't turn it. He couldn't direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him.

Lee was still commentating.

"Slytherin in possession - Flint with the Quaffle - passes Spinnet - passes Bell - hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose - only joking, Professor –"

No one seemed to have noticed that Harry's broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.

"Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing," Blaise mumbled. He stared through his binoculars. "If I didn't know better, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom... but he can't have..."

Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.

"Harry, no!" screamed Pansy.

On the other side of the stands, Hermione, who was sitting next to Weasley, stared wildly at the crowd through a pair of binoculars.

"What are you doing?" said Weasley.

"I knew it," Hermione gasped, "Snape - look."

Ron grabbed the binoculars. Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering nonstop under his breath.

"He's doing something - jinxing the broom," said Hermione.

"Why do you care?" sneered Weasley, handing the binoculars back.

"Harry Potter saved my life once. It's time I repaid him."

Before Ron could say another word, Hermione had disappeared. Ron turned the binoculars back on Harry. His broom was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, terrified, as the Slytherin Quidditch team flew up to try and pull Harry safely onto one of their brooms, but it was no good - every time they got near him, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell.

Hermione had fought her way across to the stand where Snape stood, and was now racing along the row behind him; she didn't even stop to say sorry as she knocked Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front.

Reaching Snape, she crouched down, pulled out her wand, and whispered a few, well- chosen words. Bright blue flames shot from her wand onto the hem of Snape's robes.

It took perhaps thirty seconds for Snape to realize that he was on fire. A sudden yelp told her she had done her job. Scooping the fire off him into a little jar in her pocket, she scrambled back along the row - Snape would never know what had happened.

It was enough. Up in the air, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back on to his broom amid cheers of relief. The game continued, and Harry scored five more times.

"Slytherins in possesion," Lee Jordan said, "Potter ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the - wait a moment - was that the Snitch?"

Harry swerved, clutching the Quaffle, staring at the flash of gold that had streaked past his right ear. All the players hung in midair to watch, except for the Seekers. Both Alan McLaggen and Draco were shouting insults at each other. The Golden Snitch hovered a few inches above Draco's head, but he was too busy yelling at McLaggen to notice.

"Come on, Draco, you great ugly prat!" howled Flint.

McLaggen noticed first. He put on a burst of speed and shot towards Draco, who swerved aside, obviously thinking that McLaggen was trying to crash into him. Only when McLaggen had grasped the tiny golden ball in his fat fingers did Draco realize what had happened.

The Gryffindors in the stand erupted into cheers as McLaggen held the Snitch high in his hands. His team pounded him on the back, while Jordan was shouting jubilantly. "Gryffindors win, a hundred and sixty points to a hundred and fifty!"

In the changing room, Flint rounded on Draco. The others' sullen expressions immediately changed to that of bitter delight.

"You prat," hissed Flint, pinning Draco against the wall. "I knew I shouldn't have made you Seeker. You were playing against Alan McLaggen, for heaven's sake. You're off the team. Now."

"I bought the brooms we've been playing on," snarled Draco.

"You can take you and your broomsticks right now. You're off the team. Go. I'd rather have a good Quidditch team with the school brooms than have good brooms with an ugly git like you playing."

Draco glared at Flint, then wrenched Flint's hand away and stomped off. Then Flint turned to Harry.

"You, Potter boy," he said. "You're Seeker. I knew I should've made you Seeker originally. Sorry about that."

"It's okay," muttered Harry, and he left too.

Harry and Hermione were drinking tea in Hagrid's hut that evening. Hermione had told Harry what had happened, which caused their friendship to bond closer together.

"It was Snape," Hermione was explaining, "I saw him. He was cursing Harry's broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off him."

"Rubbish," said Hagrid. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"

Harry and Hermione looked at one another, wondering what to tell him. Harry decided on the truth.

"I found out something about him," he told Hagrid. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding."

Hagrid dropped the teapot.

"How do you know about Fluffy?" he said.

"Fluffy?"

"Yeah - he's mine - bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year - I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the –"

"Yes?" said Harry eagerly.

"Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."

"But Snape's trying to steal it."

"Rubbish," said Hagrid, again. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."

"So why did he just try and kill Harry?" cried Hermione.

The afternoon's events certainly seemed to have changed her mind about Snape.

"I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I've read all about them! You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw him!"

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all three of yeh - yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel -"

"Aha!" said Harry, "so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

Hagrid looked furious with himself.


	8. Chapter 8 - Christmas Surprises

Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.

No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Slytherin common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms.

Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons.

"I do feel so sorry," said Draco one Potions class, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."

He was looking over at Weasley as he spoke. Vincent and Gregory chuckled. Weasley, who was measuring out powdered spine of lionfish, ignored them, although his face grew red. Draco had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match, because all the Slytherins were disgusted at him. After all, they had lost by only ten points. Harry was the only one who stood by Draco, although he was a bit angry too.

"I'm staying here, too," snapped Harry, stirring his potion carefully.

Weasley and his brothers were staying at Hogwarts because their parents were going to Romania to visit their second-oldest son, who had already left Hogwarts and was working with dragons.

When they left the dungeons at the end of Potions, they found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it.

"Hi, Hagrid, want any help?" Weasley, who was a couple paces ahead, asked, sticking his head through the branches.

"Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Ron."

"Would you mind moving out of the way?" said Draco coldly. "Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose - that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to."

Weasley dived at Draco just as Snape came up the stairs.

"WEASLEY!"

Weasley let go of the front of Draco's robes.

"He was provoked, Professor Snape," said Hagrid, sticking his huge hairy face out from behind the tree. "Malfoy was insultin' his family."

"Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid," said Snape silkily. "Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn't more. Move along, all of you."

Draco pushed roughly past the tree, scattering needles everywhere and smirking.

"Sorry, Hagrid, Draco's being a dunderhead right now," muttered Harry.

"Harry? Are you going to come with me?" said Draco, turning back once he realized Harry was not with him.

"No," said Harry. "I've got to go to the library."

He met Hermione in the library, and the two of them began searching for Nicolas Flamel, again. They had been searching books for Flamel's name ever since Hagrid had let it slip, because how else were they going to find out what Snape was trying to steal? The trouble was, it was very hard to know where to begin, not knowing what Flamel might have done to get himself into a book. He wasn't in _Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century_, or _Notable Magical Names of Our Time_; he was missing, too, from _Important Modern Magical Discoveries_, and _A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry_. And then, of course, there was the sheer size of the library; tens of thousands of books; thousands of shelves; hundreds of narrow rows.

Once the holidays had started, Harry was having too good a time to think much about Flamel. He and Theodore Nott had the dormitory to themselves and the common room was far emptier than usual, so they were able to get the good armchairs by the fire. They quickly became good friends and sat by the hour eating anything they could spear on a toasting fork - bread, English muffins, marshmallows - and plotting ways of getting the Gryffindors expelled, which were fun to talk about even if they wouldn't work.

Theodore had also started teaching Harry wizard chess. This was exactly like Muggle chess except that the figures were alive, which made it a lot like directing troops in battle.

Harry played with a set of chessmen that Theodore had lent him, and they didn't trust him at all. He wasn't a very good player yet and they kept shouting different bits of advice at him, which was confusing. "Don't send me there, can't you see his knight? Send him, we can afford to lose him."

On Christmas Eve, Harry went to bed looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents at all. When he woke early in the morning, however, the first thing he saw was a small pile of packages at the foot of his bed.

"Merry Christmas," said Theodore sleepily as Harry scrambled out of bed and pulled on his bathrobe.

"You, too," said Harry. "Will you look at this? I've got some presents!"

"How could you not get presents?" said Theodore, turning to his own pile, which was a lot bigger than Harry's.

Harry picked up the top parcel. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it was _To Harry, from Hagrid_. Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. Harry blew it - it sounded a bit like an owl.

A second, very small parcel contained a note.

_We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. _Taped to the note was a fifty-pence piece.

"That's friendly," said Harry. "Hagrid and my aunt and uncle - so who sent these?"

The next parcel was a cube-shaped box, neatly wrapped in emerald green paper. He tore it open and read the note that came with the gift.

_Merry Christmas, Harry. My present's in here, as well as something from my father and mother. Hope you enjoy it. Draco Malfoy_

Harry looked into the box and pulled out a package of sweets, like the kind that Draco always received from home. There was also an expensive, heavy golden wristwatch and a book titled _Quidditch Tips: Playing Like a Professional._

"That's my present," said Theodore, as Harry picked up a lumpy package. It contained a bag of Chocolate Frogs and a couple of neat-looking quills the color of emerald green.

"What are these?" asked Harry, holding up one of the quills.

"Those quills are really special. They ink themselves, check your spelling, and even correct answers if they're wrong. Thought I'd share a few with you."

"Wow!" Harry grabbed a piece of parchment and scribbled, _Ym Neam is Draco Malfoy._

Slowly, the words changed to read, _My name is Harry Potter._

"Thanks, Theodore!" said Harry excitedly.

Theodore waved his hand airily.

This only left one parcel. Harry picked it up and felt it. It was very light. He unwrapped it.

Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor, where it lay in gleaming folds. Theodore raised his head.

"What the…no way," Theodore whispered.

"What?"

Harry picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material.

"It's an invisibility cloak," said Theodore. "Man, somebody must love you, those are really, really rare."

Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders and Theodore yelled.

"It is! Look down!"

Harry looked down at his feet, but they were gone. He dashed to the mirror. Sure enough, his reflection looked back at him, just his head suspended in midair, his body completely invisible. He pulled the cloak over his head and his reflection vanished completely.

"Who sent it? There's a note," said Theodore.

Harry pulled off the cloak and seized the letter. Written in narrow, loopy writing he had never seen before were the following words:

_Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well._

_A Very Merry Christmas to you._

There was no signature. Harry stared at the note. Theodore was staring at the cloak, a grin spreading across his face.

"Think of all the things we could do to the Gryffindors with this," he said. "Hey - What's the matter?"

"Nothing," lied Harry. He felt very strange. Who had sent the cloak? Had it really once belonged to his father? But the prospect of ruining the Gryffindors' Christmas brought him out of it. "Yeah, we should pull a prank on Weaselboy today!"

After an hour of plotting, Harry and Theodore were under the invisibility cloak with a couple ink bottles and a box of firecrackers that let off a lot of ashes. The cloak was so big that they could easily fit in together. After a while, Weasley showed up in the corridors, and the two Slytherins quietly followed him, up staircases and through tapestries, until he arrived at the Gryffindor common room. "Pig Snout," they heard him say to a portrait of a fat lady, and it swung open. Harry and Theodore clambered silently in after him. They wedged the box of firecrackers under the portrait, so that whoever entered or left the common room next would trigger it.

Weasley, after talking briefly with his twin brothers, settled on an armchair by the fire. He had a box of Every Flavor Beans and a package of Chocolate Frogs. While he was munching on a Chocolate Frog, Harry uncorked a bottle of ink and dumped the whole thing into the box of Every Flavor Beans.

Weasley reached into it a few moments later and popped a couple in his mouth. He chewed for a while, then choked abruptly and spit the beans out, sputtering, trying to get the ink out of his mouth. "Bloody hell?" he said.

Theodore grabbed the box and dumped the beans onto Weasley's head, spattering him with ink and beans. He screamed and frantically tried to get the black goo out of his hair, wiping his hands on his robes as he went.

Harry and Theodore doubled over, laughing, and Theodore grabbed the package of chocolate frogs and stuck two into Weasley's ears, and shoved the rest into his mouth when he yelled. Harry opened the other ink bottles and poured them onto Weasley's face. He got up from the ground and charged for the portrait of the fat lady.

He had barely exited when an explosion of colors sent him flying back in. He was now covered in black ashes as well, and the fireworks continued for a couple moments, before fizzing out and the portrait swung shut again.

The twins raced down the staircase, wondering what caused all the commotion, and found their brother lying on the ground, covered in ashes, ink, beans, and the box of Chocolate Frogs wedged in his mouth.

Harry and Theodore left the common room as quietly as they could, and the moment they were back in their own common room they burst into laughter. Theodore was on all fours, pounding on the ground. Harry was flat on his back.

"Come on Harry," hiccupped Theodore once they had calmed down enough to talk. "Let's get cleaned. It's time for the Christmas Feast."

Harry had to restrain Theodore when they walked into the Great Hall, where Weasley was sitting at the Gryffindor table, the ink and ashes gone, but still quite dirty and shaken.

Harry had never in all his life had such a Christmas dinner. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce - and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table. These fantastic party favors were nothing like the feeble Muggle ones the Dursleys usually bought, with their little plastic toys and their flimsy paper hats inside. Harry pulled a wizard cracker with Theodore and it didn't just bang, it went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear admiral's hat and several live, white mice. Up at the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard's hat for a flowered bonnet, and was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him.

Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. Theodore found a Galleon in his slice. Harry watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to Harry's amazement, giggled and blushed, her top hat lopsided.

When Harry finally left the table, he was laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of non-explodable, luminous balloons, a Grow-Your-Own-Warts kit, and his own new wizard chess set.

The white mice had disappeared and Harry had a nasty feeling they were going to end up as Mrs. Norris's Christmas dinner. Harry and Theodore spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight on the grounds with a few third-year Slytherins. Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, they returned to the fire in the Slytherin common room, where Harry broke in his new chess set by losing spectacularly to Theodore.

After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, Harry felt too full and sleepy to do much before bed.

Theodore, full of turkey and cake, fell asleep almost before he hit his mattress. Harry leaned over the side of his own bed and pulled the cloak out from under it.

His father's... this had been his father's. He let the material flow over his hands, smoother than silk, light as air. Use it well, the note had said.

He slipped out of bed and wrapped the cloak around himself. Looking down at his legs, he saw only moonlight and shadows. It was a very funny feeling.

_Use it well. _

Suddenly, Harry felt wide-awake. The whole of Hogwarts was open to him in this cloak. Excitement flooded through him as he stood there in the dark and silence. He could go anywhere in this, anywhere, and Filch would never know.

He crept out of the dormitory, up the stairs, across the common room, and through the stone wall.

Where should he go? He stopped, his heart racing, and thought. And then it came to him. The Restricted Section in the library. He'd be able to read as long as he liked, as long as it took to find out who Flamel was.

He set off, drawing the invisibility cloak tight around him as he walked.

The library was pitch-black and very eerie. Harry lit a lamp to see his way along the rows of books. The lamp looked as if it was floating along in midair, and even though Harry could feel his arm supporting it, the sight gave him the creeps.

The Restricted Section was right at the back of the library. Stepping carefully over the rope that separated these books from the rest of the library, he held up his lamp to read the titles.

They didn't tell him much. Their peeling, faded gold letters spelled words in languages Harry couldn't understand. Some had no title at all. One book had a dark stain on it that looked horribly like blood. The hairs on the back of Harry's neck prickled. Maybe he was imagining it, maybe not, but he thought a faint whispering was coming from the books, as though they knew someone was there who shouldn't be.

He had to start somewhere. Setting the lamp down carefully on the floor, he looked along the bottom shelf for an interesting-looking book. A large black and silver volume caught his eye. He pulled it out with difficulty, because it was very heavy, and, balancing it on his knee, let it fall open.

A piercing, bloodcurdling shriek split the silence - the book was screaming! Harry snapped it shut, but the shriek went on and on, one high, unbroken, earsplitting note. He stumbled backward and knocked over his lamp, which went out at once. Panicking, he heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside - stuffing the shrieking book back on the shelf, he ran for it. He passed Filch in the doorway; Filch's pale, wild eyes looked straight through him, and Harry slipped under Filch's outstretched arm and streaked off up the corridor, the book's shrieks still ringing in his ears.

He came to a sudden halt in front of a tall suit of armor. He had been so busy getting away from the library, he hadn't paid attention to where he was going. Perhaps because it was dark, he didn't recognize where he was at all. There was a suit of armor near the kitchens, he knew, but he must be five floors above there.

"You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library Restricted Section."

Harry felt the blood drain out of his face. Wherever he was, Filch must know a shortcut, because his soft, greasy voice was getting nearer, and to his horror, it was Snape who replied, "The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them."

Harry stood rooted to the spot as Filch and Snape came around the corner ahead. They couldn't see him, of course, but it was a narrow corridor and if they came much nearer they'd knock right into him - the cloak didn't stop him from being solid.

He backed away as quietly as he could. A door stood ajar to his left. It was his only hope. He squeezed through it, holding his breath, trying not to move it, and to his relief he managed to get inside the room without their noticing anything. They walked straight past, and Harry leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, listening to their footsteps dying away. That had been close, very close. It was a few seconds before he noticed anything about the room he had hidden in.

It looked like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket - but propped against the wall facing him was something that didn't look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way.

It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. His panic fading now that there was no sound of Filch and Snape, Harry moved nearer to the mirror, wanting to look at himself but see no reflection again. He stepped in front of it.

He had to clap his hands to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. He whirled around. His heart was pounding far more furiously than when the book had screamed - for he had seen not only himself in the mirror, but a whole crowd of people standing right behind him.

But the room was empty. Breathing very fast, he turned slowly back to the mirror.

There he was, reflected in it, white and scared-looking, and there, reflected behind him, were at least ten others. Harry looked over his shoulder - but still, no one was there. Or were they all invisible, too? Was he in fact in a room full of invisible people and this mirror's trick was that it reflected them, invisible or not?

He looked in the mirror again. A woman standing right behind his reflection was smiling at him and waving. He reached out a hand and felt the air behind him. If she was really there, he'd touch her, their reflections were so close together, but he felt only air - she and the others existed only in the mirror.

She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair and her eyes – her eyes are just like mine, Harry thought, edging a little closer to the glass. Bright green - exactly the same shape, but then he noticed that she was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wore glasses, and his hair was very untidy. It stuck up at the back, just as Harry's did.

Harry was so close to the mirror now that his nose was nearly touching that of his reflection.

"Mom?" he whispered. "Dad?"

They just looked at him, smiling. And slowly, Harry looked into the faces of the other people in the mirror, and saw other pairs of green eyes like his, other noses like his, even a little old man who looked as though he had Harry's knobbly knees - Harry was looking at his family, for the first time in his life.

The Potters smiled and waved at Harry and he stared hungrily back at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass as though he was hoping to fall right through it and reach them. He had a powerful kind of ache inside him, half joy, half terrible sadness.

How long he stood there, he didn't know. The reflections did not fade and he looked and looked until a distant noise brought him back to his senses. He couldn't stay here, he had to find his way back to bed. He tore his eyes away from his mother's face, whispered, "I'll come back," and hurried from the room.

"You could have woken me up," said Theodore.

"You can come tonight, I'm going back, I want to show you the mirror."

"Shame you didn't find anything out about Flamel, though. Have some bacon or something, why aren't you eating anything?"

Harry couldn't eat. He had seen his parents and would be seeing them again tonight. He had almost forgotten about Flamel. It didn't seem very important anymore. Who cared what the three headed dog was guarding? What did it matter if Snape stole it, really?

"Are you all right?" said Theodore. "You look funny."

What Harry feared most was that he might not be able to find the mirror room again. That night, they tried retracing Harry's route from the library, wandering around the dark passageways for nearly an hour.

"Come on, Harry, are you sure it's here? I'm freezing. Let's go back," whispered Theodore.

"No!" Harry hissed. I know it's here somewhere."

They passed the ghost of a tall witch gliding in the opposite direction, but saw no one else. Just as Theodore started moaning that his feet were dead with cold, Harry spotted the suit of armor.

"It's here - just here - yes!"

They pushed the door open. Harry dropped the cloak from around his shoulders and ran to the mirror.

There they were. His mother and father beamed at the sight of him.

"See?" Harry whispered.

"I can't see anything."

"Look! Look at them all... there are loads of them..."

"I can only see you."

"Look in it properly, go on, stand where I am."

Harry stepped aside, but with Theodore in front of the mirror, he couldn't see his family anymore, just Theodore in his emerald pajamas.

Theodore stared into the mirror.

"Can you see all your family standing around you?"

"No…just my mom…and me and my father… we're You-Know-Who's most loyal Death Eaters…"

"What?"

Theodore tore his eyes away from the mirror to look at Harry.

"Do you think this mirror shows the future?"

"How can it? All my family are dead - let me have another look -"

"You had it to yourself all last night, give me a bit more time."

"You're only being a Death Eater, what's interesting about that? I want to see my parents."

"Don't push me –I saw my mom too, she's dead -"

A sudden noise outside in the corridor put an end to their discussion. They hadn't realized how loudly they had been talking.

"Quick!"

Theodore threw the cloak back over them as the luminous eyes of Mrs. Norris came round the door. Theodore and Harry stood quite still, both thinking the same thing - did the cloak work on cats? After what seemed an age, she turned and left.

"This isn't safe - she might have gone for Filch, I bet she heard us. Come on."

And Theodore pulled Harry out of the room.

The snow still hadn't melted the next morning.

"Want to play chess, Harry?" said Theodore.

"No."

"Why don't we go to the library and find out more about Flamel?"

"No... you go..."

"I know what you're thinking about, Harry, that mirror. Don't go back tonight."

"Why not?"

"I've just got a bad feeling about it - and anyway, you've had too many close shaves already. Filch, Snape, and Mrs. Norris are wandering around. So what if they can't see you? What if they walk into you? What if you knock something over?"

"You sound like an old granny."

"I'm serious, Harry, don't go."

But Harry only had one thought in his head, which was to get back in front of the mirror, and Theodore wasn't going to stop him.

That third night he found his way more quickly than before. He was walking so fast he knew he was making more noise than was wise, but he didn't meet anyone.

And there were his mother and father smiling at him again, and one of his grandfathers nodding happily. Harry sank down to sit on the floor in front of the mirror. There was nothing to stop him from staying here all night with his family. Nothing at all.

Except –

"So - back again, Harry?"

Harry felt as though his insides had turned to ice. He looked behind him. Sitting on one of the desks by the wall was none other than Albus Dumbledore. Harry must have walked straight past him, so desperate to get to the mirror he hadn't noticed him.

" - I didn't see you, sir."

"Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you," said Dumbledore, and Harry was relieved to see that he was smiling.

"So," said Dumbledore, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor with Harry, "you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."

"I didn't know it was called that, sir."

"But I expect you've realized by now what it does?"

"It - well - it shows me my family -"

"And it showed your friend Theodore with his mom, and his father, the greatest Death Eaters of all."

"How did you know -?"

"I don't need a cloak to become invisible," said Dumbledore gently. "Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?"

Harry shook his head.

"Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?"

Harry thought. Then he said slowly, "It shows us what we want... whatever we want..."

"Yes and no," said Dumbledore quietly. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. Theodore Nott, whose mom died when he was young, and whose father is a Death Eater, sees his mom as well as his father and him being the Dark Lord's most loyal followers. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible.

"The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?"

"I'm sorry, sir," Harry said stiffly.

"No need to be. It might be curious to you," said Dumbledore, "that your parents were in Gryffindor."

"What?"

"Yes, and talented Gryffindors they were," said Dumbledore.

"B-but, then how did I end up in Slytherin?" gasped Harry.

"That, I cannot answer until you are older. Do you not like it in Slytherin?"

"N-no! Slytherin's wonderful! B-but…my parents….in _Gryffindor_…"

Harry stood up and saw sadness in Dumbledore's eyes, which made him even more uneasy.

"Sir - Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you one last thing?"

"Obviously, you've just done so," Dumbledore smiled. "You may ask me one more thing, however."

"What do you see when you look in the mirror?"

"I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks."

Harry stared.

"One can never have enough socks," said Dumbledore. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."

It was only when he was back in bed that it struck Harry that Dumbledore might not have been quite truthful. But then, he thought, it had been quite a personal question.


	9. Chapter 9 - Nicolas Flamel

Dumbledore had told Harry not to go looking for the Mirror of Erised again, and even though Harry didn't really want to listen to Dumbledore, he stopped making visits. He did keep using the invisibility cloak, though. He and Theodore continued to pull pranks on Weasley and his brothers, which drove him mad because he had no idea how Harry and Theodore were doing it.

Draco, who came back the day before term started, became jealous at the fun that Harry and Theodore had while he was gone. He was also disappointed they hadn't found out anything about Flamel.

They had almost given up hope of ever finding Flamel in a library book, even though Harry was still sure he'd read the name somewhere. Once term had started, they were back to skimming through books for ten minutes during their breaks.

One day, Hermione and Harry were sitting together at a table in the library, searching in a book of alchemy for Flamel's name. They put their heads together and whispered.

"What do you think you're doing?" came a voice. Harry spun around to see Weasley standing there, a look of shock and hatred on his face.

"Ron…" began Hermione, but Weasley silenced her.

"What has gotten into you? You're hanging out with this – this – _Slytherin_! This is what you've been doing when you come to the library?"

"Ron…please, I can explain!"

"I'm sure you can," said Weasley harshly. He grabbed Hermione by the wrist and marched her out of the library, casting a look of deepest loathing at Harry.

Harry shrugged and left for the Quidditch pitch.

Flint was working the team reasonably hard, especially the new Chaser, Cassius Warrington. If they won their next match, against Ravenclaw, they would overtake Gryffindor in the house championship.

Then, after one particularly wet and muddy practice session, Flint called them down, grinning. "Got a bit of good news," he said, looking extremely trollish. "Snape is refereeing this time! We're bound to win for sure – I'm actually surprised the other teachers let him be the ref."

"What?" said Harry, his heart suddenly beating very quickly. "Why – when has he ever refereed a Quidditch match?"

"Dunno," said Miles Bletchley. "I guess we can play as dirty as we want. Rake in as many goals as we can."

Which was all very well, thought Harry, but he had another reason for not wanting Snape near him while he was playing Quidditch...

The rest of the team hung back to talk to one another as usual at the end of practice, but Harry headed straight back to the Slytherin common room, where he found Draco and Theodore sitting in the armchairs closest to the fire, eating various snacks. Draco looked sour, the way he always did before, during, and after a Slytherin Quidditch practice. He vented most of his anger onto Warrington, the second-year that had replaced Draco as Chaser.

"How was practice?" said Theodore.

Harry told them about Snape's sudden, sinister desire to become a Quidditch referee.

"But that's great!" said Draco, smiling. "Why're you so down – oh."

"It's alright, Harry," said Theodore. "Snape'll want Slytherin to win, right? So if he hurts you – boom, no Seeker. Then you wouldn't be able to win."

"Yeah, I guess," said Harry. "I'm going to the library, I need to finish my Transfiguration essay. Want to come with me?"

They were sitting at a table in the library, _The Basics of Transfiguration_ lying open in front of them, when Neville trotted in and began searching among a shelf for a book.

"Harry, Theodore, look, it's Longbottom," said Draco, turning in his seat. Longbottom promptly turned red.

"You know, Longbottom, I've learned this spell not long ago. I'm not so good at it though – I need somebody to practice it on."

It took a few moments for Longbottom to realize what Draco was saying. Then it dawned on him. He hastily replaced a book upon the shelf and scurried out of the library, but not before Draco got up, pulled his wand out, and said, "_Locomotor Mortis!_"

Longbottom's legs snapped together, and he toppled to the ground. Harry and Theodore burst into laughter at the sight of Longbottom struggling to get to his feet, then bunny-hopped out of the library. Draco returned to his seat, smirking. Theodore wiped a tear of laughter from his eye.

Later, in the common room, Harry joined Draco and Theodore, and together they munched their way through a package of chocolate frogs.

"Dumbledore again," Harry said, stuffing a frog into his mouth. "He was the first one I ever-"

He gasped. He stared at the back of the card. Then he looked up at the others.

"I've found him!" he whispered. "I've found Flamel! I told you I'd read the name somewhere before, I read it on the train coming here – listen to this: 'Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, _Nicolas Flamel_'!"

"Oh, that's right!" said Draco, slapping himself on the knee. "Father mentioned it when I was little – There was something called the Sorcerer's Stone – he said it turned any metal into gold and produces something called the Elixir of Life. They say it makes you _immortal_. Flamel is the maker of it. Father said he's six hundred already."

"So that dog must be guarding Flamel's Sorcerer's Stone. I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it, that's why he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts," said Harry.

"A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!" said Theodore. "No wonder Snape's after it! Anyone would want it."

The next morning in Defense Against the Dark Arts, while copying down different ways of treating werewolf bites, the three of them were still discussing what they'd do with a Sorcerer's Stone if they had one. It wasn't until Draco said he'd buy his own factory to make the fastest brooms on the planet that Harry remembered about Snape and the coming match.

"I'm going to play," he told Theodore (Draco mysteriously melted away, as usual, when talk of Quidditch began). "I don't think anything _too_ terrible will happen, and the Gryffindors will never let me go if I don't play."

As the match drew nearer, however, Harry became more and more nervous, whatever he told Theodore. The rest of the team wasn't too calm, either. Their tricks were becoming dirtier and dirtier – Flint jumped off his broom and onto Warrington's, trying to unseat him, while sending the Quaffle soaring into a goal post.

Harry didn't know whether he was imagining it or not, but he seemed to keep running into Snape wherever he went. At times, he even wondered whether Snape was following him, trying to catch him on his own. Could Snape possibly know they'd found out about the Sorcerer's Stone? Harry didn't see how he could - yet he sometimes had the horrible feeling that Snape could read minds.

Harry slowly pulled on his Quidditch robes in the changing room and picked up his Nimbus Two Thousand.

"The whole school's out there!" said Lucian Bole, peering out of the door. "Even - blimey - Dumbledore's come to watch!"

Harry's heart did a somersault.

"Dumbledore?" he said, dashing to the door to make sure. Lucian was right. There was no mistaking that silver beard.

Harry could have laughed out loud with relief He was safe. There was simply no way that Snape would dare to try to hurt him if Dumbledore was watching.

Perhaps that was why Snape was looking so angry as the teams marched onto the field, something that Weasley noticed, too.

"I've never seen Snape look so mean," he told Hermione. "Look -they're off. Ouch!"

Someone had poked Weasley in the back of the head. It was Draco.

"Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn't see you there."

Draco grinned broadly at Vincent and Gregory.

A minute later, Slytherin scored. Draco cheered with the rest of the Slytherins, while Weasley looked sour.

"What's the matter, Weasley?" said Draco, kicking him hard in the back. Weasley doubled over, coughing. Before Draco knew what was happening, Weasley was on top of him.

"Ron…hey Ron…Where are you? Ron?" said Longbottom, who was leaning towards Ron's seat but toppled over when he found it empty. Vincent and Gregory snarled, and began to pummel Longbottom.

"Ron, look!" cried Hermione, pointing at the game.

Harry had suddenly gone into a spectacular dive, which drew gasps and cheers from the crowd. Draco watched, his wand pinning Weasley to the ground, as Harry streaked toward the ground like a bullet.

Up in the air, Snape turned on his broomstick just in time to see something emerald shoot past him, missing him by inches - the next second, Harry had pulled out of the dive, his arm raised in triumph, the Snitch clasped in his hand.

The stands erupted; it had to be a record, no one could ever remember the Snitch being caught so quickly.

Flint flew towards Harry, yelling his head off as the Slytherin team descended. "You're a better bloody Seeker by far than that Malfoy boy," he said.

Harry jumped off his broom, a foot from the ground. He couldn't believe it. He'd done it - the game was over; it had barely lasted five minutes. As Slytherins came spilling onto the field, he saw Snape land nearby, white-faced but also smiling - then Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up into Dumbledore's smiling face.

"Well done," said Dumbledore quietly, so that only Harry could hear. "Nice to see you haven't been brooding about that mirror... been keeping busy... excellent..."

Snape walked up to Harry, and with a forced, twisted grin, he said, "Well done, Potter."

Harry left the locker room alone some time later, to take his Nimbus Two Thousand back to the broomshed. He couldn't ever remember feeling happier. He'd really done something to be proud of now - no one could say he was just a famous name any more. The evening air had never smelled so sweet. He walked over the damp grass, reliving the last hour in his head, which was a happy blur: Slytherins running to lift him onto their shoulders; the Gryffindors in the distance, trodding glumly back to the castle, Weasley with a heavy nosebleed and a black eye. Harry had reached the shed. He leaned against the wooden door and looked up at Hogwarts, with its windows glowing red in the setting sun.

Slytherin in the lead. He'd done it, he'd even gotten a compliment from Snape...

And speaking of Snape...

A hooded figure came swiftly down the front steps of the castle. Clearly not wanting to be seen, it walked as fast as possible toward the Forbidden Forest. Harry's victory faded from his mind as he watched. He recognized the figure's prowling walk. Snape, sneaking into the forest while everyone else was at dinner - what was going on?

Harry jumped back on his Nimbus Two Thousand and took off. Gliding silently over the castle he saw Snape enter the forest at a run. He followed.

The trees were so thick he couldn't see where Snape had gone. He flew in circles, lower and lower, brushing the top branches of trees until he heard voices. He glided toward them and landed noiselessly in a towering beech tree.

He climbed carefully along one of the branches, holding tight to his broomstick, trying to see through the leaves. Below, in a shadowy clearing, stood Snape, but he wasn't alone. Quirrell was there, too.

Harry couldn't make out the look on his face, but he was stuttering worse than ever. Harry strained to catch what they were saying.

"... d-don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus..."

"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private," said Snape, his voice icy. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Sorcerer's Stone, after all."

Harry leaned forward. Quirrell was mumbling something. Snape interrupted him.

"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?"

"B-b-but Severus, I -"

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell," said Snape, taking a step toward him.

"I-I don't know what you…"

"You know perfectly well what I mean."

An owl hooted loudly, and Harry nearly fell out of the tree. He steadied himself in time to hear Snape say, "- your little bit of hocus-pocus. I'm waiting."

"B-but I d-d-don't -"

"Very well," Snape cut in. "We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie."

He threw his cloak over his head and strode out of the clearing. It was almost dark now, but Harry could see Quirrell, standing quite still as though he was petrified.

"Harry, where have you been?" Draco said, lounging on an armchair.

"We won! You won! We won!" said Theodore, thumping Harry on the back. "Draco here gave Weasley a beating – his face is all messed up now, and that stupid Longbottom tried to attack Vincent and Gregory single-handed. He's still out cold – that clumsy idiot - talk about showing Gryffindor! We're gonna have a party – some of the third-years nicked some food from the kitchens."

"Never mind that now," said Harry breathlessly. "Let's find an empty room, you wait 'til you hear this..."

He made sure Peeves wasn't inside before shutting the door behind them, then he told them what he'd seen and heard.

"So we were right, it is the Sorcerer's Stone, and Snape's trying to force Quirrell to help him get it. He asked if he knew how to get past Fluffy - and he said something about Quirrell's 'hocus pocus' - I reckon there are other things guarding the stone apart from Fluffy, loads of enchantments, probably, and Quirrell would have done some anti-Dark Arts spell that Snape needs to break through -"

"Harry, Snape isn't all that bad, you know. Father said he and your father had some rough times when they were kids, so that's why he treats you like you're a slug or something. Haven't you considered that Quirrell might be the one trying to steal the stone, and Snape's trying to stop him?"

"_Quirrell_?" said Harry. "Please – why would Quirrell – actually, that might be true…"

"Let's talk about this later," said Theodore. "We've got a party to celebrate."


	10. Chapter 10 - The Illegal Dragon

Please review! :)

In the weeks that followed Quirrell did seem to be getting paler and thinner, but it didn't look as though he'd cracked yet. Harry was now completely confused as to who wanted to steal the Stone, though he still held a grudge against Snape.

Every time he passed the third-floor corridor, Harry would press his ears to the door to check that Fluffy was still growling inside. Snape was sweeping about in his usual bad temper, so if he was the one who wanted the Stone, surely it was safe.

Even though the exams were ten weeks away, the teachers piled so much homework on them that the Easter holidays weren't nearly as much fun as the Christmas ones. Moaning and yawning, Harry, Draco and Theodore spent most of their free time in the library, trying to get through all their extra work.

"I'll never remember this," Theodore burst out one afternoon. "I give up. Let's take a break, we've been working long enough."

Harry got up and stretched. He wandered along the shelves of the library aimlessly, when a moderately small, purple-black volume caught his eye. He pulled it out. In gold letters at the top of the book was the title "_Simple Dark Arts for Beginners_". Curious, Harry brought the book back to the table and showed Draco and Theodore.

For half an hour, the three of them pored excitedly over the book, drinking in the blurred words on the yellowed pages. Finally, when Harry pried himself away from the book, they decided to try to brew a simple potion that turned a person's arm pitch black and made it burn for a whole day. According to the book, there was no cure for it, except for a nasty-smelling ointment that took two days to work, so by then the black stuff would be gone.

Draco went to get his cauldron from the Potions classroom and Harry pulled a spare stack of ingredients from his trunk, and they began in their dormitory.

According to the book, it should only take half an hour and a few ingredients, but since the three of them were such novice wizards, it took nearly five tries. Harry began to run low on his supply of bowtruckle legs and lionfish spine, but they finally managed to concoct the thick, orange, bubbling potion. Theodore carefully spooned some into a vial and corked it, smirking.

"The book says that the victim has to drink it for it to work," Draco said, scanning the page. "It takes effect in about five seconds, and the victim's dominant arm will slowly turn black and begin to burn."

"Perfect," said Harry. "Tommorow morning we'll go to the Gryffindor table, taunt Weasley, and I'll trip and slip some potion into his pumpkin juice. They're the same color, so Weasley shouldn't notice anything wrong."

The next morning dawned bright and clear. Draco, Theodore, and Harry entered the Great Hall with the rest of the Slytherins, and were delighted to find Weasley already sitting at the Gryffindor table with Hermione and Seamus Finnigan.

"Hey, Weasley," said Draco loudly, elbowing Weasley hard in the back of the head.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" snarled Weasley, rubbing his head.

"Not your house, that's for sure," said Draco smoothly. "What did you say your family lived in? A one-room shack?" Theodore laughed and whispered to Harry, "Hurry, McGonagall's coming."

So Harry uncorked the tiny vial and pretended to trip backwards, dumping the contents in Weasley's pumpkin juice, saying, "Sorry, Weasley, your ugliness surprised me there for a moment."

Laughing, the three of the returned to the Slytherin table, where they exchanged high fives.

Later, Weasley took a big gulp from his goblet, and Harry, Draco, and Theodore watched him intently. Sure enough, he let out a yelp and watched as his right arm, from the shoulder, slowly turned black.

"Ouch! Ouch! What the heck is going on? Ow – it burns! Argghh!" he yelled, gripping his arm as if it were a lifeline.

The Slytherin table burst into laughter. Draco was pounding the table with his goblet, and even Blaise, the quiet kid, was shaking his head and smiling.

The teachers descended on him like fire and carried him away to the hospital wing.

Later in Potions, Weasley's arm was encased in a thick sling of bandages. He winced every once in a while and had great difficulty doing things with his left hand. Harry, Draco, and Theodore had to fight to keep their faces straight, and Harry was so distracted that he wasn't paying attention to what he was putting in his cauldron.

One day, Harry and Draco were on their way to Herbology (Theodore had gone on ahead with Vincent and Gregory.) They passed by Hermione, Finnigan, and Weasley, who were arguing about something.

"Come on, let's just skip Herbology and go down to Hagrid's hut!" Weasley was saying in a hushed voice. Harry and Draco stopped dead, straining their ears.

"No, no, no! I'm not going to hear this nonsense – skipping class?" said Hermione.

"Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?"

"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing -"

"Shut up!" Finnigan whispered, turning in the direction of Harry and Draco.

Harry smirked and trotted off, Draco following.

The two filled in Theodore about what they had overheard, and as soon as Herbology was over they were hiding in a bush right below a window of Hagrid's hut. Moments after they settled themselves into the bush, Hermione, Weasley, and Finnigan knocked on Hagrid's door. Hagrid greeted them, looking flushed and excited.

"It's nearly out." He ushered them inside.

Harry pulled open the curtain a tiny bit, enough for the three Slytherins to see through. The egg was lying on the table. There were deep cracks in it. Something was moving inside; a funny clicking noise was coming from it.

The Gryffindors drew their chairs up to the table and watched with bated breath.

All at once there was a scraping noise and the egg split open. The baby dragon flopped onto the table. It wasn't exactly pretty; Harry thought it looked like a crumpled, black umbrella. Its spiny wings were huge compared to its skinny jet body, it had a long snout with wide nostrils, the stubs of horns and bulging, orange eyes.

"Wait till my father hears about this," said Draco. "That oaf is in so much trouble."

Harry was shocked. Hagrid had a dragon egg? Dragon breeding was illegal – and Harry thought Hagrid was a decent man. Now he realized that Hagrid was quite dangerous.

The dragon sneezed. A couple of sparks flew out of its snout.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Hagrid murmured. He reached out a hand to stroke the dragon's head. It snapped at his fingers, showing pointed fangs.

"Bless him, look, he knows his mommy!" said Hagrid.

"Hagrid," said Hermione, "how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?"

Hagrid began to answer, but then caught sight of Harry, Draco, and Theodore peering in through the window. "Let's go!" said Theodore, and they sprinted for the castle. Harry looked back and saw Weasley looking through the window, a look of horror on his face.

A week later Weasley had been bitten by the dragon, although nobody besides Hermione, Finnigan, Harry, Draco, and Theodore knew that it was a dragon bite.

"I'm going to pay him a visit in the hospital wing," said Draco. "Maybe we can get some more information on the dragon."

He smirked and left the common room.

It wasn't long before he returned, carrying a textbook in one hand, a letter in the other. He wore a satisfied grin as he sat down in an armchair. Harry and Theodore joined him.

"I told Madam Pomfrey I wanted to borrow one of Weasley's books so I could go and have a good laugh at him. His hand is terrible – it's almost worse than when he drank that Dark potion. I threatened to tell Madam Pomfrey what really bit him – apparently he told her it was a dog, but I'd be surprised if she believes that – and look what I got." He held up the letter and tore it open. The three of them began to read.

_Dear Ron,_

_How are you? Thanks for the letter - I'd be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn't be seen carrying an illegal dragon._

_Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it's still dark._

_Send me an answer as soon as possible._

_Love,_

_Charlie_

"This is our chance to get Hagrid sacked," said Draco. "Might get Weasley and his cronies expelled too. "

Finally Saturday night arrived. Theodore didn't really want to go, so Harry and Draco crept up the staircases under the invisibility cloak.

"Look! There they are!" said Draco in a whisper, and Harry took off the invisibility cloak, stuffing it inside his robes.

Hermione and Finnigan were clutching an enormous crate, buzzing in and out of focus. Hermione had cast a weak Disillusionment Charm on them, so they were a bit harder to see than normal.

Draco opened his mouth to call out to them, but before he could, a lamp flared, and McGonagall had Draco and Harry by the ears.

"Detention!" she shouted. "And forty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, what has gotten into you two -"

"You don't understand, Professor. Granger and Finnigan are here – they've got a dragon!" said Draco fiercely.

"What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on - I shall see Professor Snape about you two, Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter!"

"No – Professor – wait!" Harry said desperately, as McGonagall led them to her study, and Hermione and Finnigan vanished up the steps to the astronomy tower.


	11. Chapter 11 - The Forbidden Forest

Harry and Draco sat in Professor McGonagall's study, waiting for her to come back. Harry couldn't believe it. They had lost forty points for Slytherin in one night and Hermione and Finnigan were going to release the dragon in time.

But Harry's heart leapt as he saw Filch leading Hermione and Finnigan into the study. They were both white in the face, and as Filch deposited them as if they were trash, he cackled and said, "You'll get it. Up on the astronomy tower at night? You might even get expelled."

When Professor McGonagall appeared, she was leading Longbottom. "Seamus!" he burst out, the moment he saw the Gryffindors. "I was trying to find you to warn you, I heard Malfoy and Potter saying they was going to catch you two, they said you had a drag -"

Finnigan was shaking his head violently, but Professor McGonagall had seen. She looked more likely to breathe fire than Norbert as she towered over Hermione, Finnigan, and Longbottom.

"I would never have believed it of any of you. Mr. Filch says you were up in the astronomy tower. It's one o'clock in the morning. Explain yourselves."

It was the first time Hermione had ever failed to answer a teacher's question. She was staring at her slippers, as still as a statue.

"I think I've got a good idea of what's been going on," said Professor McGonagall. "It doesn't take a genius to work it out. You fed Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy here some cock-and-bull story about a dragon, trying to get them out of bed and into trouble. I've already caught them." She gestured to Harry and Draco in the corner, who were both smiling slightly. "I suppose you think it's funny that Longbottom here heard the story and believed it, too?" Harry saw Finnigan trying to tell him without words that this wasn't true, because Longbottom was looking stunned and hurt.

"I'm disgusted," said Professor McGonagall. "Five students out of bed in one night! I've never heard of such a thing before! You, Miss Granger, I thought you had more sense. As for you, Mr. Finnigan, I thought Gryffindor meant more to you than this. All five of you will receive detentions - yes, you too, Mr. Longbottom, nothing gives you the right to walk around school at night, especially these days, it's very dangerous - and fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor."

"Fifty?" Hermione gasped. Harry felt Draco tense.

"Fifty points _each_," said Professor McGonagall, breathing heavily through her long, pointed nose.

"Professor – please…"

"You can't -"

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Finnigan. Now get back to bed, all of you. I've never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students."

A hundred and fifty points lost. That put Gryffindor in last place. Harry and Draco were jumping for joy as they made their way to the Slytherin dungeon. Ravenclaw was in the lead since Harry and Draco had lost forty points for Slytherin, but if they didn't do anything stupid, they still had a chance at the house cup.

At first, Gryffindors passing the giant hourglasses that recorded the house points the next day thought there'd been a mistake. How could they suddenly have a hundred and fifty points fewer than yesterday? And then the story started to spread: a bunch of stupid first-years had lost them those points, Hermione, Finnigan, and Longbottom.

The Gryffindors began to ignore them. Harry and the other Slytherins wasted no time taunting them, and Ravenclaws clapped and whistled when they passed. Only Weasley stood by them, so the four of them tended to wander the corridors alone.

Then, about a week before the exams were due to start, Harry was walking back from the library on his own one afternoon, and he heard somebody whimpering from a classroom up ahead. As he drew closer, he heard Quirrell's voice.

"No - no - not again, please -"

It sounded as though someone was threatening him. Harry moved closer.

"All right - all right -" he heard Quirrell sob.

Next second, Quirrell came hurrying out of the classroom straightening his turban. He was pale and looked as though he was about to cry. He strode out of sight; Harry didn't think Quirrell had even noticed him.

He waited until Quirrell's footsteps had disappeared, then peered into the classroom. It was empty, but a door stood ajar at the other end. Harry crept through it, and looked out of the other end. There was nobody in sight. Harry was disappointed – he thought Snape had been the one threatening Quirrell. If it wasn't Snape, then who was it?

Harry went back to the library, where Theodore and Draco were lounging around, looking at books of Dark Magic.

"Do you reckon we should go to Dumbledore?" asked Theodore.

"Like that'd be any use," scoffed Draco. "He's all loopy and crazy. It'd be better if we tried to do something ourselves than if he interfered."

"Whatever. Come look at this, Harry, it's a pretty nifty-looking spell," said Theodore.

The following morning, notes were delivered to Harry and Draco at the breakfast table. They were both the same:

_Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock tonight. Meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall. From Professor McGonagall_

Harry had forgotten they still had detentions to do. Over at the Gryffindor table, he saw Finnigan's face fall as he read the piece of parchment. Obviously the three Gryffindors had received a similar notice.

At eleven o'clock that night, they said good-bye to Theodore in the common room and went down to the entrance hall. Filch was already there. Minutes later Hermione, Finnigan, and Longbottom arrived.

"Follow me," said Filch, lighting a lamp and leading the five of them outside.

"I bet you'll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won't you, eh?" he said, leering at them. "Oh yes... hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me... It's just a pity they let the old punishments die out... hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I've got the chains still in my office, keep 'em well oiled in case they're ever needed... Right, off we go, and don't think of running off, now, it'll be worse for you if you do."

They marched off across the dark grounds. Longbottom kept sniffing. Harry wondered what their punishment was going to be. It must be something really horrible, or Filch wouldn't be sounding so delighted.

The moon was bright, but clouds scudding across it kept throwing them into darkness. Ahead, Harry could see the lighted windows of Hagrid's hut. Then they heard a distant shout.

"Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started."

Harry saw Finnigan's head come up. Obviously he was thinking that if they were going to be working with Hagrid it wouldn't be so bad. Harry kept a cold, stony silence. He didn't trust Hagrid anymore after the fiasco with the dragon.

Finnigan's relief must have showed in his face, because Filch said, "I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, boy - it's into the forest you're going and I'm much mistaken if you'll all come out in one piece."

At this, Longbottom let out a little moan, and Draco stopped dead in his tracks.

"The forest?" he repeated, and he didn't sound quite as cool as usual. "We can't go in there at night - there's all sorts of things in there - werewolves, I heard."

Longbottom clutched the sleeve of Hermione's robe and made a choking noise.

"That's your problem, isn't it?" said Filch, his voice cracking with glee. "Should've thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn't you?"

Hagrid came striding toward them out of the dark, Fang at his heel. He was carrying his large crossbow, and a quiver of arrows hung over his shoulder.

"Abou' time," he said. "I bin waitin' fer half an hour already. All right, Seamus, Hermione?"

"I shouldn't be too friendly to them, Hagrid," said Filch coldly, "they're here to be punished, after all."

"That's why yer late, is it?" said Hagrid, frowning at Filch. "Bin lecturin' them, eh? 'Snot your place ter do that. Yeh've done yer bit, I'll take over from here."

"I'll be back at dawn," said Filch, "for what's left of them," he added nastily, and he turned and started back toward the castle, his lamp bobbing away in the darkness.

Draco now turned to Hagrid.

"I'm not going in that forest," he said, and Harry caught a note of panic in his voice.

"Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts," said Hagrid fiercely. "Yeh've done wrong an' now yeh've got ter pay fer it."

"But this is servant's stuff, it's not for students to do. I thought we'd be copying lines or something, if my father knew I was doing this –"

"He'd tell yer that's how it is at Hogwarts," Hagrid growled. "Copyin' lines! What good's that ter anyone? Yeh'll do summat useful or yeh'll get out. If yeh think yer father'd rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an' pack. Go on."

Draco didn't move. He looked at Hagrid furiously, but then dropped his gaze.

"Right then," said Hagrid, "now, listen carefully, 'cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight, an' I don' want no one takin' risks. Follow me over here a moment."

He led them to the very edge of the forest. Holding his lamp up high, he pointed down a narrow, winding earth track that disappeared into the thick black trees. A light breeze lifted their hair as they looked into the forest.

"Look there," said Hagrid, "see that stuff shinin' on the ground? Silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery."

"And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" said Draco, unable to keep the fear out of his voice.

"There's nothin' that lives in the forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang," said Hagrid. "An' keep ter the path. Right, now, we're gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trail in diff'rent directions. There's blood all over the place, it must've bin staggerin' around since last night at least."

"I want Fang," said Draco quickly, looking at Fang's long teeth.

"All right, but I warn yeh, he's a coward," said Hagrid. " So me, Harry, Seamus, an' Hermione'll go one way an' Draco, Neville, an' Fang'll go the other. Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we'll send up green sparks, right? Get yer wands out an' practice now - that's it - an' if anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks, an' we'll all come an' find yeh - so, be careful - let's go."

The forest was black and silent. A little way into it they reached a fork in the earth path, and Harry, Hermione, Finnigan, and Hagrid took the left path while Draco, Longbottom, and Fang took the right.

They walked in silence, their eyes on the ground. Every now and then a ray of moonlight through the branches above lit a spot of silver-blue blood on the fallen leaves.

Harry saw that Hagrid looked very worried.

"Could a werewolf be killing the unicorns?" Finnigan asked.

"Not fast enough," said Hagrid. "It's not easy ter catch a unicorn, they're powerful magic creatures. I never knew one ter be hurt before."

They walked past a mossy tree stump. Harry could hear running water; there must be a stream somewhere close by. There were still spots of unicorn blood here and there along the winding path.

"You all right, Hermione?" Hagrid whispered. "Don' worry, it can't've gone far if it's this badly hurt, an' then we'll be able ter – GET BEHIND THAT TREE!"

Hagrid seized Finnigan and Hermione and hoisted them off the path behind a towering oak. Harry followed. Hagrid pulled out an arrow and fitted it into his crossbow, raising it, ready to fire. The four of them listened. Something was slithering over dead leaves nearby: it sounded like a cloak trailing along the ground. Hagrid was squinting up the dark path, but after a few seconds, the sound faded away.

"I knew it, " he murmured. "There's summat in here that shouldn' be."

"A werewolf?" Finnigan suggested.

Harry snorted. "No wonder you're in Gryffindor, you brainless idiot. Did that sound like a werewolf to you?"

"Be quiet, Harry," said Hagrid. "Right, follow me, but careful, now."

They walked more slowly, ears straining for the faintest sound.

Suddenly, in a clearing ahead, something definitely moved.

"Who's there?" Hagrid called. "Show yerself - I'm armed!"

And into the clearing came - was it a man, or a horse? To the waist, a man, with red hair and beard, but below that was a horse's gleaming chestnut body with a long, reddish tail. Finnigan and Hermione's jaws dropped.

"Oh, it's you, Ronan," said Hagrid in relief. "How are yeh?"

He walked forward and shook the centaur's hand.

"Good evening to you, Hagrid," said Ronan. He had a deep, sorrowful voice. "Were you going to shoot me?"

"Can't be too careful, Ronan," said Hagrid, patting his crossbow. "There's summat bad loose in this forest. This is Seamus Finnigan an' Hermione Granger, an' Harry Potter, by the way. Students up at the school. An' this is Ronan, you three. He's a centaur."

"No duh," scoffed Harry.

"Good evening," said Ronan. "Students, are you? And do you learn much, up at the school?"

"Erm -"

"A bit," said Hermione timidly.

"A bit. Well, that's something." Ronan sighed. He flung back his head and stared at the sky. "Mars is bright tonight."

"Yeah," said Hagrid, glancing up, too. "Listen, I'm glad we've run inter yeh, Ronan, 'cause there's a unicorn bin hurt - you seen anythin'?"

Ronan didn't answer immediately. He stared unblinkingly upward, then sighed again.

"Always the innocent are the first victims," he said. "So it has been for ages past, so it is now."

"Yeah," said Hagrid, "but have yeh seen anythin', Ronan? Anythin' unusual?"

"Mars is bright tonight," Ronan repeated, while Hagrid watched him impatiently. "Unusually bright."

"Yeah, but I was meanin' anythin' unusual a bit nearer home, said Hagrid. "So yeh haven't noticed anythin' strange?"

Yet again, Ronan took a while to answer. At last, he said, "The forest hides many secrets."

A movement in the trees behind Ronan made Hagrid raise his bow again, but it was only a second centaur, black-haired and -bodied and wilder-looking than Ronan.

"Hullo, Bane," said Hagrid. "All right?"

"Good evening, Hagrid, I hope you are well?"

"Well enough. Look, I've jus' bin askin' Ronan, you seen anythin' odd in here lately? There's a unicorn bin injured - would yeh know anythin' about it?"

Bane walked over to stand next to Ronan. He looked skyward. "Mars is bright tonight," he said simply.

"We've heard," said Hagrid grumpily. "Well, if either of you do see anythin', let me know, won't yeh? We'll be off, then."

Harry, Finnigan, and Hermione followed him out of the clearing, staring over their shoulders at Ronan and Bane until the trees blocked their view.

"Never," said Hagrid irritably, "try an' get a straight answer out of a centaur. Ruddy stargazers. Not interested in anythin' closer'n the moon."

"Are there many of them in here?" asked Hermione.

"Oh, a fair few... Keep themselves to themselves mostly, but they're good enough about turnin' up if ever I want a word. They're deep, mind, centaurs... they know things... jus' don' let on much."

"D'you think that was a centaur we heard earlier?" said Finnigan.

"Wow, you are one dummy. That definitely wasn't a centaur. I'm actually smart enough to notice," said Harry. Finnigan opened his mouth to retort, but Hagrid silenced him.

They walked on through the dense, dark trees. Harry had the nasty feeling they were being watched. They had just passed a bend in the path when Hermione grabbed Hagrid's arm.

"Hagrid! Look! Red sparks, the others are in trouble!"

"You three wait here!" Hagrid shouted. "Stay on the path, I'll come back for yeh!"

They heard him crashing away through the undergrowth. Finnigan and Hermione stood looking at each other, very scared, until they couldn't hear anything but the rustling of leaves around them.

"You don't think they've been hurt, do you?" whispered Hermione.

"I don't care if Malfoy has, but if something's got Neville... it's our fault he's here in the first place," replied Finnigan.

"And why would Draco be getting injured?" said Harry. "If anybody gets hurt, it'd be Longbottom. He hasn't got enough brains to fill an eggcup."

Finnigan flew at him, and Harry pinned him easily to the ground, his wand at Finnigan's chest. Hermione looked on, and all the friendliness she and Harry had accumulated so far evaporated, and she drew her wand out. She said something, and a jet of white light shot towards Harry, who dodged. The spell hit Finnigan instead.

Painful lumps erupted along Finnigan's face, arms, and legs. They were the size of grapes and boiling red. Hermione stood in shock, threw a look of hatred at Harry, then rushed to Finnigan to cure the Stinging Jinx she had cast, Finnigan moaning on the ground.

At last, a great crunching noise announced Hagrid's return. Draco, Longbottom, and Fang were with him. Hagrid was fuming. Draco, it seemed, had sneaked up behind Longbottom and grabbed him as a joke. Longbottom had panicked and sent up the sparks.

"We'll be lucky ter catch anythin' now, with the racket you two were makin'. Right, we're changin' groups - Neville, you stay with me, Seamus an' Hermione, Harry, you go with Fang an' this idiot. I should've put the two Slytherins together – ah well, les' get goin', then."

So Harry set off into the heart of the forest with Draco and Fang. They walked for nearly half an hour, deeper and deeper into the forest, until the path became almost impossible to follow because the trees were so thick. Harry thought the blood seemed to be getting thicker. There were splashes on the roots of a tree, as though the poor creature had been thrashing around in pain close by. Harry could see a clearing ahead, through the tangled branches of an ancient oak.

"Look -" he murmured, holding out his arm to stop Draco.

Something bright white was gleaming on the ground. They inched closer.

It was the unicorn all right, and it was dead. Harry had never seen anything so beautiful and sad. Its long, slender legs were stuck out at odd angles where it had fallen and its mane was spread pearly-white on the dark leaves.

Harry had taken one step toward it when a slithering sound made him freeze where he stood. A bush on the edge of the clearing quivered...

Then, out of the shadows, a hooded figure came crawling across the ground like some stalking beast. Harry, Draco, and Fang stood transfixed. The cloaked figure reached the unicorn, lowered its head over the wound in the animal's side, and began to drink its blood.

"AAAAAAAAAARGH!"

Draco let out a terrible scream and bolted - so did Fang. The hooded figure raised its head and looked right at Harry - unicorn blood was dribbling down its front. It got to its feet and came swiftly toward Harry - he couldn't move for fear.

Then a pain like he'd never felt before pierced his head; it was as though his scar were on fire. Half blinded, he staggered backward. He heard hooves behind him, galloping, and something jumped clean over Harry, charging at the figure.

The pain in Harry's head was so bad he fell to his knees. It took a minute or two to pass. When he looked up, the figure had gone. A centaur was standing over him, not Ronan or Bane; this one looked younger; he had white-blond hair and a palomino body.

"Are you all right?" said the centaur, pulling Harry to his feet.

"Yeah…what was that?"

The centaur didn't answer. He had astonishingly blue eyes, like pale sapphires. He looked carefully at Harry, his eyes lingering on the scar that stood out, livid, on Harry's forehead.

"You are the Potter boy," he said. "You had better get back to Hagrid. The forest is not safe at this time - especially for you. Can you ride? It will be quicker this way."

"My name is Firenze," he added, as he lowered himself on to his front legs so that Harry could clamber onto his back.

There was suddenly a sound of more galloping from the other side of the clearing. Ronan and Bane came bursting through the trees, their flanks heaving and sweaty.

"Firenze!" Bane thundered. "What are you doing? You have a human on your back! Have you no shame? Are you a common mule?"

"Do you realize who this is?" said Firenze. "This is the Potter boy. The quicker he leaves this forest, the better."

"What have you been telling him?" growled Bane. "Remember, Firenze, we are sworn not to set ourselves against the heavens. Have we not read what is to come in the movements of the planets?"

Ronan pawed the ground nervously. "I'm sure Firenze thought he wasacting for the best, " he said in his gloomy voice.

Bane kicked his back legs in anger.

"For the best! What is that to do with us? Centaurs are concerned with what has been foretold! It is not our business to run around like donkeys after stray humans in our forest!"

Firenze suddenly reared on to his hind legs in anger, so that Harry had to grab his shoulders to stay on.

"Do you not see that unicorn?" Firenze bellowed at Bane. "Do you not understand why it was killed? Or have the planets not let you in on that secret? I set myself against what is lurking in this forest, Bane, yes, with humans alongside me if I must."

And Firenze whisked around; with Harry clutching on as best he could, they plunged off into the trees, leaving Ronan and Bane behind them.

Harry didn't have a clue what was going on.

"Why's Bane so angry?" he asked. "What was that thing you saved me from, anyway?"

Firenze slowed to a walk, warned Harry to keep his head bowed in case of low-hanging branches, but did not answer Harry's question. They made their way through the trees in silence for so long that Harry thought Firenze didn't want to talk to him anymore. They were passing through a particularly dense patch of trees, however, when Firenze suddenly stopped.

"Harry Potter, do you know what unicorn blood is used -for?"

"No," said Harry, startled by the odd question. "We've only used the horn and tail hair in Potions."

"That is because it is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn," said Firenze. "Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenseless to save yourself, and you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips."

Harry stared at the back of Firenze's head, which was dappled silver in the moonlight.

"But who'd be that desperate?" he wondered aloud. "If you're going to be cursed forever, deaths better, isn't it?"

"It is," Firenze agreed, "unless all you need is to stay alive long enough to drink something else - something that will bring you back to full strength and power - something that will mean you can never die. Mr. Potter, do you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment?"

"The Sorcerer's Stone! Of course - the Elixir of Life! But I don't understand who -"

"Can you think of nobody who has waited many years to return to power, who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?"

It was as though an iron fist had clenched suddenly around Harry's heart. Over the rustling of the trees, he seemed to hear once more what Hagrid had told him on the night they had met: "Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die."

"Do you mean," Harry croaked, "that was Vol-"

"There yeh are, Harry!"

Hagrid was making his way to Firenze and Harry, the other students trodding along behind him.

"The unicorn's dead, Hagrid, it's in that clearing back there." said Harry, hardly knowing what he was saying.

"This is where I leave you," Firenze murmured as Hagrid hurried off to examine the unicorn. "You are safe now."

Harry slid off his back.

"Good luck, Harry Potter," said Firenze. "The planets have been read wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times."

He turned and cantered back into the depths of the forest, leaving Harry shivering behind him.

Theodore was snoring in the dormitories when Harry roughly shook him awake. In a matter of seconds, Harry got him up and began to tell him what had happened in the forest.

Harry couldn't sit down. He paced up and down in front of the fire. He was still shaking.

"Snape wants the stone for Voldemort... and Voldemort's waiting in the forest... and all this time we thought Snape just wanted to get rich..."

"Or Quirrell. I think it's more likely Quirrell than Snape, don't you think?" said Draco.

"Whatever. Snape or Quirrell wants the stone for Voldemort."

"Stop saying the name!" said Theodore.

Harry wasn't listening.

"Firenze saved me, but he shouldn't have done so... Bane was furious... he was talking about interfering with what the planets say is going to happen... They must show that Voldemort's coming back... Bane thinks Firenze should have let Voldemort kill me... I suppose that's written in the stars as well. So all I've got to wait for now is Snape to steal the Stone," Harry went on feverishly, "then Voldemort will be able to come and finish me off... Well, I suppose Bane'll be happy."

"Harry, everyone says Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of. With Dumbledore around, You-Know-Who won't touch you. Anyway, who says the centaurs are right? It sounds like fortune-telling to me, and that's a very imprecise branch of magic," said Theodore.

"Pfft," said Draco. "Nobody's safe at this school with that douchebag as headmaster."

The sky had turned light before they stopped talking. They went to bed exhausted, their throats sore.


End file.
